


A Happy Medium

by buildhogwartsthenwewilltalk



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Klaus Hargreeves, Basically Klaus starts helping ghosts move on and finds some purpose in it, Character Death, Ghosts, Grief, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Immortal Klaus Hargreeves, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Okay you guys got me, Other, POV Diego Hargreeves, POV Klaus Hargreeves, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Post Season 2, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Season 2 compliant, Talking To Dead People, Who Knows ;), Whump, complete :'), is it temporary?, no beta we die like ben, past alcohol abuse, some descriptions of blood but nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 71,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buildhogwartsthenwewilltalk/pseuds/buildhogwartsthenwewilltalk
Summary: Klaus is okay. He's always okay. Nothing to see here, he's fine.Except Ben is gone, the whole timeline is royally fucked, and some asshole is out there wearing his brother's face.Now the Hargreeves are stuck in a 2019 that's the same but not quite, and while the rest of the Academy unites to get them home, fend off the Sparrows, save the day etc. Klaus finds there isn't much room for him in the team. Maybe there never was.But when he makes friends with a lonely ghost on a rooftop one night, he makes a realisation.  Breaking bones and cracking skulls has never really been his deal, but there may be other ways to help save the day, or whatever.He might not be much of a superhero, but he's not an overly terrible medium. Perhaps, he could be something in between.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/ Lila (mention), Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Klaus Hargreeves/ Dave Katz (mention)
Comments: 273
Kudos: 1163
Collections: Completed Fics, Fics That Should Be Adored and Loved, Finished faves, The Best of Klaus





	1. Kindly Stop for Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Hope you're well! 
> 
> Just a quick note/ disclaimer to say that I wrote this fic before they cast/ announced the cast for the Sparrows. This means that their names, powers etc. are different from what we're probably gonna get in the show (all part of the perils of writing speculative fanfiction I guess xD). This also means that Sparrow!Ben is "Number One", not "Number Two" (and I am obsessed with the implications of that tbh I can't wait to see what he'll be like in season 3!!!!) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and are staying safe out there ^_^ 
> 
> Min x

This family really can’t catch a break. 

They’re barely back for five minutes in 2019 and Klaus is already running for his life. Turns out that twenty-minute ‘light supper’ back in the sixties was enough for their dear father to decide they were not worth the trouble. 

For the record Klaus had known it would be a shit show, even without Vanya exploding the centrepiece, Luther taking his shirt off and Ben deciding to go body snatching. 

Oh God, Ben. 

Apparently, little Number Six was exempt from Reggie’s unadoption campaign. To be honest, they’d always thought he’d been the best of them. If Klaus had had to pick one of them to stick around, it would be Ben. 

But from the moment he stepped into view, with his floppy hair, his cruel scowl and whatever it was that died on his top lip, Klaus was sure of one thing. 

That’s not Ben. 

He knows in his gut that his brother is gone. He’s moved on. He’s not here. 

He barely registers Five’s shout of _RUN_ , nor Allison’s hand on his arm as he's pulled from the room. His heart is pounding, his brain is pulsing, and he is only shaken from his panic when he hears a crack and a flash of blue and _oh god he’s gonna be sick_. 

Klaus looks up and they’re in an alley across town. 

Wait, he knows this one, how did he-?

Oh yeah, Five must have jumped. 

Oh yeah, he’s definitely gonna hurl.

His siblings are splayed across the floor in various states of nausea. Luther wins the prize for the queasiest as he dips his head between his legs. Five is talking a thousand miles a minute and Klaus can just about process what he’s saying. 

“How did we mess this up? We finally had an out we- what in the name of sANITY,”

Now Diego’s talking, and so are Allison and Vanya. But Klaus has tuned out again. His head is still reeling from … Ben. 

Oh, God Ben. 

\----

It takes a quick rumour from Allison to get them off the streets and into safety.

It's an old apartment block, in fact, Klaus might have squatted here once in 2013? Or was it '14? He definitely recognises the smell (the immortal combination of piss and garbage) and the dangerously sagging west roof. Either way, she asks the owner very nicely to let them stay, and he can’t help but oblige. 

The complex is falling apart and has been cleared out for mass renovations. But it's got a roof, heat and running water, and it's on the opposite side of town to their father. Or was that former father? 

Everyone is talking fast and Klaus is listening, he promises. It’s just for once he doesn’t have that much to say. That is until Luther pipes up. 

“But what about Ben? In this timeline he’s alive, we can’t just-,”

“That’s not Ben,”

Klaus feels all eyes turn to him. 

“Ben died. 17 years ago. And then again in 1963, saving our asses. He’s gone. _Poof_ ,”

Klaus illustrates that with a flash of his hands [GOODBYE].

“He’s moved on. He’s not coming back,”

They’re all staring at him and he looks at the floor. He’s definitely not looking at Vanya, because it's not her fault. Or Diego, who got so close to having his little brother back. 

It’s Luther who speaks again.

“Listen, Klaus, I know that but we can’t just-,”

Klaus doesn’t mean to laugh. A lot has happened the last few days and he feels like he might burst if he doesn’t let the strangled giggle leave his lips.

“No um, I don’t think you do. He is D. E. A. D. Dead. Take it from the expert because this is kind of my thing. Whoever we just saw does not know us. He does not care about us,"

"He. Is. Not. _Ben_ ,”

Klaus breathes. His siblings are staring at him. Now they’re talking. And they’re talking some more. 

And Klaus is leaving. 

\----

It's been three days since they arrived in not-2019 and they’ve already settled into a rhythm. 

Five is trying to contact the commission to figure out how to navigate the clearly drastic changes they made back in ‘63. So far there's been no response and they can’t access the headquarters through their briefcase. This has done nothing for Five’s blood pressure. Klaus really thinks the kid could use a nap.

Allison and Vanya have settled in together, scoping out ways to get money and get by under the radar in their unfamiliar city. Klaus has heard them muttering to each other, about the lives they left behind, the lovers they lost in the past, and they cling to each other as sisters should. 

Klaus fingers his tags and desperately tries not to think about who he left behind too. He probably could join them, but he doesn't. He can't.

Hell must have frozen over because Luther and Diego haven’t thrown a punch at each other the whole time they’ve been back. They’re a team, team zero, and Klaus can hear them hashing out plans and strategies. Finding ways to defend themselves from the so-called Sparrow Academy. 

From so-called Sparrow Ben. 

Klaus is smoking. 

Since his little outburst on day one, he’s been keeping to the sidelines. He offers a quip, the odd observation and gag, but he knows he’s the spare wheel here. Everyone else has paired off with Five at the helm. They each have something to contribute, but he knows he’s got nothing to say about strategy, time travel or the end of the world. 

So, when he slips away at dinner, it's Chinese takeout because Diego missed it at the hospital, no one notices. 

There’s not a lot of room to breathe in the complex. They have their own rooms but they're empty and hollow and he can’t _think_ , so Klaus makes his way upstairs. 

The building’s roof is empty and Klaus exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He is very ready for a drink. As he sits at the edge with his legs dangling over the sides, he takes out his smokes and takes in the skyline. He sighs to himself. 

_The view’s not bad up here._

Klaus enjoys the rare quiet for a while as he lights up a cigarette and puts it to his lips 

There’s a woman standing at the edge of the ledge. She’s tall, with long box braids and a silver septum piercing. She can’t be more than 23 or 24, with a bright blue leather jacket and ripped black jeans. 

The side of her head is caved in. 

She’s quietly muttering to herself. It's incomprehensible, but to be honest that's how Klaus likes it. She’s clearly nowhere near coherent and yeah it's sad and all that. She’s far too young, innocence lost yadda yadda. Klaus is in no mood to be screamed at, thanks. 

He makes a resolute effort to ignore her, focusing on the city’s gentle hum and flickering lights and taking his flask out of his jacket, before he catches what she says. 

_“- the carriage held but just ourselves and immortality, we slowly drove- he knew no haste-,”_

Wait, he knew that one. 

Now Klaus had never been the type for literature. Despite daddy’s best efforts to give him the finest most pretentious education imaginable, most of the great novels and prose he’d been forced to read as a kid went straight over his head. Just wasn’t his thing, sue him. 

Ben, on the other hand, had lapped it all up. Reading actually _was_ his thing, always had been. So much so he’d died with a book in his pocket that followed him beyond the veil. He always had a pithy quote or fictional analogy to add the situation and was growing his arsenal at all times, dead or no. 

This meant that, by proxy, Klaus had picked up some things over the years. 

It took him a moment, but as the girl continued he finally placed the verse. Or at least, where he heard it. 

It was his second stint in rehab and it sucked ass. Methadone was great and all, but it did very little to touch the hum of spirits that began to follow him once his last proper hit began to taper. 

They were everywhere, at every minute, and Klaus was losing his mind. By 3 am, Klaus was huddled in the corner of his room, hands wrapped around his head, whispering desperately for it all to stop.

His roommates couldn’t give a damn, muttering lunatics were part and parcel of the rehab experience to be fair. 

The ghosts just kept getting closer. And closer. And _closer_.

Klaus was alone. It was just him and the ghosts and they were so dead and _maybe he was dead he_ -

Ben was talking. His voice was low, hushed and gentle, hovering next to his ear.

“Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me. The carriage held - but just ourselves and immortality-,” 

Of all the poems Ben. Really?

But it was nice. Ben’s voice was soothing and soft, and the poem’s rhythm was familiar and sure. Klaus clung to it like a lifeboat.

He made it through rehab that time. 30 days and all baby. Thought he was gonna do it for real too. 

Ha.

It was kind of Ben to stay up with him, though. It's not like he had much choice, but he could have gone in another room or something.  
Instead, he’d read him poetry. 

Klaus doesn’t realise he’s staring at the girl until she stares back. Oh shit. 

He shouldn’t acknowledge them, he should know better by now. They’re too disjointed, too fractured to make any sense, and they’ll only wail. He’s about to get up when -

He’s about to get up when - 

“Oh, hi there?”

She speaks to him. Her voice is low but gentle, and her brow is furrowed. It's like she’s trying to remember something. 

Klaus feels a tug in his gut. Shit. 

Now is not the time for his powers to act up, especially around a straggler. Oh god he’s too tired for this crap.

She speaks again. 

“Hello? Are you looking at me? Staring is kind of rude, you know?”

“Yeah. Yeah sorry, I just-, “

That tugging is there, and it's spreading to his hands, but she's not glowing, nor is she moving to attack him. She’s just looking, out of one eye of course, but she seems more curious than anything. 

She watches Klaus like he's the odd one out here. Like he's missing half his face and muttering obsessively at the edge of a tall building.

Makes a change. Klaus decides to go for it. 

“It’s just that poem? The one you were-, “ saying, chanting, muttering in an endless cycle of death, “reciting? What is it?”

Surprisingly, she smiles at that. 

“Oh, that? It's Emily Dickinson of course, it's one of her best,”

Yeah, that name did sound familiar. 

“Why do you ask?” 

She says it casually. Like they were sitting in a coffeehouse or a classroom. Not on a lonely rooftop with half her brain hanging out. 

“Oh uh, it’s just um,”

Come on Klaus. Complete sentences, please.

“My brother used to read it to me. He was into that nerdy, literary sort of stuff,”

She’s walking across to him now, unaware of the four-story drop to her left, and Klaus can’t help but tense. Three years of sobriety had done something for his fear of the dead, but you know. Old habits die hard. And Klaus was all about old habits. 

“I used to study her. At college, I mean. She’s one of my favourites you see, and carried her poems everywhere,”

Fair enough. 

Their quiet again, and for once Klaus isn’t relieved the gruesome spectre is silent. His mouth opens before he thinks what he’s going to say. 

“Ah, I see,"

Another awkward beat.

" Did she write a lot of these poems, then? Are they all that depressing?”

“ _Well_ , that's kind of complicated, you see-,” 

So he seems to have set her off on one. She’s talking fast, about rhyme schemes and metaphors and lots of other things Klaus knows fuck all about. It's completely going over his head. To be honest, this is much more Ben’s deal than his. 

It's almost sweet though. Klaus has been talked at a lot the last few days, and its a bit of a relief for it not to be about the moon exploding. God knows how long this girl has been dead, and now one ex-superhero asks her appro pro for nothing about a random line and she’s off at the drop of a hat. 

He decides Ben would like her. 

She stops suddenly, maybe when she sees his eyes glaze over. 

“I’m sorry I - I talk too much I shouldn’t I’ll-,”

Klaus reacts quickly. 

“No no no no! It’s fine! I’m just not that well, heh, _versed_ in all this, is all,”

He adds a weak smile at the end. He tries not to think how much it makes his face hurt. Like he’s out of practice. 

Christ, what a sad sack. 

The girl looks down nervously as if she's afraid to speak again. It’s kind of sad, to be honest. Like she’s used to it. Something inside him twists. Klaus wouldn’t normally allow a strange ghost to talk to him this long, but well...

It’s been a long few days (years), and he really likes her septum piercing.

“So uh, what's your name?”

She looks up.

“Christine,”

“That’s a lovely name,”

He says it every time, but he means it. She smiles, looking at her shoes and twists her hands together. 

“What brings you up here Christine? I know the view's nice and all,”

She looks around as if taking in her surroundings for the first time. 

“Oh I uh, live here? Used to live here. My boyfriend and I come - came up here all the time,”

She turns back to him. 

“Why are you up here?”

That's an easy one. 

“Escaping my asshole family. Oh and uh, engaging in one of my many vices,”

He gestures with his left hand, which has his still-lit cigarette in it, and then his right, that has his trusty hip flask. 

Christine smirks, before pausing. 

“God I’d kill for a cigarette right now,” 

Klaus smiles apologetically. Sorry, sweetheart, he knows the feeling. He goes to take a puff before something in his mind faintly rings a bell.

Back in Dallas, during those first few weeks when they’d landed, he and Ben had played with his powers a lot. By 1963, keeping Ben corporeal was second nature, he barely even had to think. In between, they’d discovered some other things too. 

Ben couldn’t eat, Ben couldn’t drink, Ben couldn’t sleep. 

But he could breathe. 

Klaus still remembers the thrill they’d shared when Ben’s icy 'breath' fogged up a mirror for the first time. Taking the whole Patrick Swayze thing to a new level, he’d started leaving Klaus messages on the bus windows when he got bored. 

If he could make ghosts breathe, that meant - 

He holds out his left hand, focusing on the tightness in his gut as he beckons Christine forward. She raises an eyebrow (her only eyebrow) before leaning over, gasping as she took the cigarette in her hand. 

Experimentally, she raises it to her lips. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. 

A cloud of smoke engulfs the rooftop. 

Klaus feels a bubble of laughter escape. Christine joins in.

“Wowee dude, how’d you manage that?”, she grins, taking another drag.

Klaus shrugs. 

“Ah you know, I have my secrets,” 

They were both smiling now, and something inside him eases, just a little. 

For the next few hours, he learns all about Christine. She lived in their building with her boyfriend about ten years ago as a struggling student before it shut down for “drastic renovations”, whatever that meant. 

She likes Chai lattes. Her mom is from Senegal. She really wishes she’d just gotten a cat, no matter what her landlord says. 

She’s been told to speak up more in class. Her boyfriend goes out late a lot. She gets chest pains sometimes. 

She fell off the rooftop.

It was an accident. She and a group of friends from school threw a party up here, end of term deal, and things got out of hand. There was booze, a few drugs and as they danced and shoved about, she guesses they just didn’t see her at the edge. 

She doesn’t remember the impact. 

Klaus isn’t quite sure what to say to that, apart from;

“I’m sorry,”

Christine shrugs.

“Not your fault. I don’t think it's anyone’s really I just-,”

She sighs. 

Klaus braced himself for a wail, a shriek. At this point, he couldn’t blame her for one. 

She whispers.

“Why couldn’t they see me?”

Oh.

"I was right by the edge, and they just ... missed me. He just-,"

She's trying very hard not to cry, her hand covering her mouth and she suppresses a watery breath. 

They sit in silence for a minute and Klaus can feel it.

Grief. A desire to be noticed. Is it his? No, not completely. But the pressure in his gut is still there, and this connection isn’t going away, so he reaches out.

Her skin is cool and smooth, and her hand immediately turns around to take his. 

When he looks over she’s already looking at him, and is he going crazy or -? No, he’s not. 

She has two eyes now, bright and clear and wide. Her face is no longer collapsed, but smooth and young and alive. 

Well, how about that. 

He should say something to her. Something comforting and kind all the things he struggles to be.

What he hears comes out easily. 

“Well, anyone who knows as much about, whatshername, Dickinson? Yeah, anyone who knows that much about her and poetry and all that other nerdy shit you do is hard to miss,”

Her smile could relight the stars. 

“You’ve got a lot going for you Chrissy. If people can’t see that then it’s their shit, you know?”

Now she’s blushing.

“Well, I don’t know about that I-,” 

She stiffens. Klaus frowns.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

They remain still until she breathes out. 

“I think I can go now,”

Huh?

Oh.

Christine is bathed in pale blue. It’s soft, bright and familiar, not unlike the one that had encircled Ben when he summoned him. 

Or the flash in his brain when he’d woken up in the FBI building. When Ben had left forever. 

It dances off her dark skin and makes her piercing sparkle. She stands up, holding out her hands, and flecks of light make her image shimmer and begin to fracture.

She’s not afraid though, in fact, she seems happy. Grateful.

At peace.

Klaus knows what’s happening. He stands up too, swinging his legs back from the edge and holding his hands out in a weak effort to soothe her. To be honest, he’s probably the one that needs calming down. 

Christine seems to gauge this. 

“Klaus, it's okay, I think I’m going to be okay. I’ve been waiting for this, this whole time I think,”

She grabs his hand again, though it's already begun to fade away, drifting up towards the sky. 

“Thank you, thank you, Klaus. I’ve been up here so long I -,"

There are tears down her face, but she's grinning wide. 

"I haven’t even been here I don’t think. Before tonight I was just... just _phasing_ I-,”

She rubs a thumb over his palms [HELLO, GOODBYE].

“Thank you for talking to me, I think I just needed to talk. To be heard, that’s all I needed I think,”

She looks at him, really looks into him. Klaus looks back. 

“I owe you, I have to thank you, I don’t know. Is there anything I can do?”

Klaus doesn’t know either. He can barely grasp what's going on.

This is what happened to Ben. She’s leaving, passing through to the great beyond. This nice new ghost friend he barely knows is moving on. He’s going to be alone again.

But she’s so happy. At peace.

Is that what Ben felt like when he left? Was he at peace?

Are they going to the same place? She might be.

She might be.

He grips her hand back.

“You can, yes you can actually! Um,” 

How should he put this? He’s not a poet, she’s almost gone and he’s got so much to say. Shit. 

“If you, uh, if you see my brother? His name is Ben, kind of short, tentacle portal in his stomach?”

He swallows. 

“Tell him, uh, tell him Klaus says hi? And that uh-,”

She’s almost faded now. Quick, come on brain you can do this. 

He smirks. 

“I’m glad we shaved his crappy moustache off when we were fifteen. I stand by it, it only would have gotten worse, alright? 

He laughs a little, to himself. 

"Can you, can you tell him that for me?”

Christine nods.

"Of course!" 

Her voice echoes, from across a cavernous, empty space. 

“I’ll look out for him! Bye now, and thank you agai-,”

She was gone. 

Klaus was alone. 

The sun has come up. All of a sudden, the pale blue had been replaced with a warm glowing orange. The golden light spreads over the city’s towers and street lights as the roads began to hum with morning traffic. 

Klaus feels heavy. A combination of sleep deprivation and well, everything else. 

But he’s also at peace.

It’s not him he realises. It feels distant. Like he’s feeling by proxy. But it's nice all the same as he leans over the rooftop, taking in the few crawling pedestrians below. 

Wherever she went, wherever Ben went, it must be alright. 

Hopefully, the little girl in the sky put out a nice spread. It can’t be any worse than here. 

As he clambers back down the stairs and sneaks into his empty room, he’s not sure exactly what he did that night. 

He’d made a friend. 

He’d grieved his brother, just a little. 

Oh, and now he thinks of it, he didn’t actually open his flask after all. Smoked half a packet, but no booze for Number Four, not one drop. Yippee. 

Something tells him that all these things add up to something. Some big revelation that he might have been waiting to make. An epiphany of sorts.

But right now, he’s far too tired for that shit. 

He falls asleep face down, with a familiar rhythm tapping through his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I've had this fic idea bouncing around since finishing season 2 and I decided to bash it out before I start Uni again. I have it mostly plotted out now and have three chapters to work and play with but I'll let you know how I get on. 
> 
> There's nothing I love more than writing Klaus angst, so please let me know what you think! ^_^


	2. My Own Dark Way

The rooftop is a bit of a bummer, so the next time Klaus needs some air he goes out for a walk. 

The Brady bunch are at it again. Five and Diego have been driving everyone mad, taking the lead as they try to figure out how to get the commission on the phone. It's a tough one, especially whilst trying to avoid dear Reggie and their knock-off replacements. There are talks of taking the fight to them, snooping back to the academy for information and a full-blown time heist, or something.

Once again, Klaus has absolutely nothing to contribute, and his family have made themselves very clear about that too.

All he’d done was flounce in the room and jump on the kitchen table. He didn’t mean for the papers to go everywhere. He didn’t mean to knock the coffeepot over either. Especially not over said papers. 

It didn’t go down well. 

He’s never let their rejection get to him before. Not really, and he’ll be damned if he starts now. But something about Five’s last hiss to _get out of here you useless dumbass_ followed shortly by _can’t you see the adults are working_ might have stung. Hard.

Nevermind it was the first time he’d been in the same room as all of them in three days. Nevermind he’d been leaning out the fire escape for 20 minutes before, working out a way to enter their cosy gathering with little incident. 

Nevermind. 

So he's out on a walk. 

He’s been gone for hours now, rediscovering the streets he called home for so many years. It’s mostly the same, a few differences here and there. A different shop name, a missing restaurant, billboards on opposite sides of the road. But he can find his way around no problem. 

In some ways, it's a little too familiar.

He resolutely marches past his old haunts, but that little voice that had ruled his life since he hit puberty still croons in his ear, ever-present despite his good behaviour. Booze had taken the edge off, but his tolerance is far too high for it to touch his troubles or his powers even a little. _Maybe a hit of something stronger could?_

It's a tempting offer, and probably always would be.

But for once, after three years of sobriety, the numb and the high that pills promise feels distant. Not the all-consuming _need_ it had once been. 

He hasn’t even had a drink since they arrived. 

Maybe he’s actually, finally developed some willpower. A side of self-preservation, perhaps.  
Or maybe, even if it means being surrounded by bloody, half-crazed corpses, he doesn’t want to be alone. 

That doesn’t mean when he spots an old dealer huddled against a trash can that it doesn’t take every ounce of him to turn the other way. 

He even misses the cult. Not the stifling obsession, the unwanted gropes and the unending need for advice he was in no shape to give. But the company? Actual, living company? Once upon a time, it was pretty nice. 

Nice to be trusted, even if the trust was misguided. Nice to be wanted, to be needed. 

God, that is pathetic. 

So he’s walking, and after a few hours, he’s found himself in central park. 

Huh, he hasn’t been here in a while. Well, technically he hasn’t been here ever, but you know, timelines and stuff. 

In the first run around, he came here a lot. He and Ben would rock up here in the summer, usually when the weather was warmer and the cough Klaus often carried around had almost faded. Almost. 

They’d both liked it here, actually. It was nice just to watch the wildlife, watch the people. The chatter was soothing, and in this city, no one gave the mumbling, half-dressed junkie a second look. 

The park, of course, is empty now. But he only walks a few metres in, past the abandoned green and the deserted playground, before he comes to a stop. 

It's still there. 

A little off to the side of the path was a bench. It was fairly new, in the grand scheme of things, but sported a little tarnish. Iron wrought with wooden slats, it didn’t look like much. 

But it was Ben’s favourite spot. 

From here, you could still see the road, with the cars and the shoppers bustling past to the high street. However, if you looked to the left, you also could just make out the park’s pond. If you were to sit yourself down here on a warm afternoon, everyone from idle dog walkers, to bustling commuters to bickering families would wander by. You could even see the ducks, on a good day. Little snippets of people's lives would flutter past, and Ben could quite happily sit there for hours. 

If you asked Klaus, it was a great place to smoke a joint. 

Either way, it was prime park real estate. 

He hesitates a second, before giving in and walking over. He stops at the edge of the grass and takes a moment to read the familiar inscription. 

_Maria Hyde, 1938- 2010 - Forever watching over us._

Ben had liked the name because, you know, he’s a nerd. He’d explained to Klaus once all the intricacies and narratives behind Dr Jekyll’s strange case. He must have read it a thousand times as a kid, and he practically knew it by heart. 

Looking back, maybe he found some solace in it. Some kinship in the idea of a man struggling with letting out his repressed, inner darkness. If Klaus was honest, he hadn’t been paying attention at the time. He was happy to let his brother talk and all, but shit, he’d popped a few before they sat down and it sounded kind of stuffy. 

He wonders if he could get his hands on a copy. It's a pretty old book, maybe a thrift store might have it? He could ask Diego if he fancied a class outing. Pick him up something to wear that's not leather, or maybe something else to wedge their fridge door shut. 

Nah.

He sits down on the ( _their_ ) bench. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulls out some tobacco and rolling papers. Proper cigarettes are ridiculously expensive in this timeline and Klaus’ hands like the challenge. It takes no time at all, and before he knows it he’s fishing for a lighter and bringing the smoke to his lips. 

“You know young man, those things will kill you,” 

Christ lady, give a guy some warning. 

There's an old woman sitting next to him. She’s wearing a nightdress, with a thick dressing gown draped across her shoulders. Her grey hair is loose and her face is lined, with dark eyes furrowed with irritation. 

At least Klaus thought it was irritation, maybe concern? It's hard for him to tell.

“Well,” she continues, “what do you have to say for yourself?” 

She’s definitely dead. If her attire wasn’t enough of a clue, Klaus can feel a pull in his gut and the chill in his veins that can only mean she's drawing from him. 

Oops. He hadn’t meant to do that. 

She's still looking at him. Her gaze is firm and expectant, but unaggressive. It’s the first time since the roof that someone has shown so much interest in him. So he’ll bite.

“Yeah well, I’m afraid you don’t need to worry ma’am. Death’s not the kind of thing to stick with me,”

He punctuates this bold declaration with a lean and a wink. 

“Hmm,” 

She looks him up and down, her arms crossed. 

“Well, you’re much too thin. Immortal or not, you need a good meal in you boy,”

She has him there. Food is pretty low on his list of priorities, always has been. Side effects of addiction baby. 

He wants to brush her off, deflect again. But there's a kindness in her eyes, behind her prodding, that stirs something. 

He sighs, taking another drag. 

He’s not sure how to respond to her probing, so let’s try a different approach. 

“So… nice bench we’ve got here?”

She smiles. Klaus didn’t that would work, good for him.

“Why thank you. My grandson put it up for me, a few months after I passed,” 

Oh! 

“Wait, you’re Maria?” 

She nods sagely. 

“Why yes. Who else could I be?”

Klaus shrugs. Nice to put a face to a name.

“Hate to break it to you darling, but you’re not the first uh, dead grandma I’ve met in this park. I could start a collection,”

Her brow furrows. 

“You’re very rude, has anyone ever told you that?” 

Klaus laughs. 

“Lady, they never stop,”

“Hrm,” 

The conversation stills again.

Klaus could leave. She’s clearly tethered to this bench, he can tell from the slight streams of _something_ connecting her to the seat. If he left, she wouldn’t follow him. 

He almost gets up before she speaks again. 

“You know, you look an awful lot like my grandson. He likes to dress… eccentric,” 

She illustrates the last word with a general wave up and down in his direction. 

He’ll take that as a compliment. This crop top is thrift shop chic, don’t you know. 

“He’s such a good boy. Looked after me when my Javier passed, a very very good boy,”

She’s smiling a little now. She looks all her years, but without the stern glare she opened with, she's less Victorian schoolmistress and more Hallmark grandma. 

“I used to take him here when he was very small, you know. Such a nice spot. We’d put a little blanket down, and we could see everything,”

Oof. 

“Yeah,” 

He stubs out his cigarette without thinking and before Klaus knows it he’s responding. 

“Yeah, it's a great spot, especially uh, in the summer you know. The ice cream van parks just there-,” he points to a grassy plain to the right, “-and the guy is super nice. Doesn’t mind giving away leftover ice pops if you ask nicely,”

Despite what his siblings might say, Klaus could be perfectly polite if he wanted to. Or if he was hungry. 

She smiles at that. 

“Oh, that will be Henry. Lovely chap, he’s been working there since I first moved here, ooh a very long time ago,” 

And before he knows it, Klaus is getting her life story. 

She’s originally from England, and met her husband, Javier, at University when he was on exchange. She came back with him and they got married. Started a little eatery all of their own, him handling the cooking and her handling the books. Did the kids and grandkids thing. Her husband died a few years before she did. 

Maria hated mess, late-night talk show hosts, and rainy weather (“I had enough of that back in Shropshire thank you very much”). She taught her children, and then their children, how to knit and sew and bake. She tells him about how her whole family but one moved away, and she never got the hang of those silly mobile things. 

She tells Klaus about her youngest grandson again, about how he loved to visit and make her husband’s chilli with her every Sunday. He'd even come over when he was balancing work and school and moved all the way across town.

“He was away, of course, visiting a friend when I passed. It was very peaceful, in my sleep, like my Javier. It was fine, I was fine. It was lonely though, I never got to-,” 

She stopped herself there, smoothing out her dressing gown. 

“Ah well. He gave me this lovely bench! And he took over the restaurant for me, at least, that's what he said he’d do before I - well I haven’t seen him of course, he’s never come by. Oh and he’d be all alone in this city I hope-,”

She's stopped again. 

That’ll be why she’s here then. No goodbye, a ghostie classic. Her family doesn’t seem to have dropped by for a visit to their probably quite expensive bench either, who knows why. 

So she’s stuck waiting. 

It's not the most tragic story he’s heard from a dead woman. But looking at her, small in her seat but with her back straight and defiant, he can't help but feel sorry for her. 

He decides to break the silence, if for no one but himself. 

“Mind my asking, but what sort of food did your dear hubby cook? ‘Cause I mean I need a better picture here. Are we talking about the finest gourmet cuisine or like $1 cardboard pizza slices?”

She smiles again. Apparently, Klaus’ mouth continues to run in the right direction. 

“ Well, my husband's family was from Mexico, so we had this little place all of our own, full of his old family recipes. Just across the way, off-,”

“-off fifth? By the 7/11 with the cow statue outside?”, Klaus suddenly finishes.

Maria’s head snapped up to him. 

“Yes? La Riviera, how did you-?”

Klaus claps his hands, a grin spreading across his face. 

“Wait, does that mean you know Bobby and Brent?”

She blinked. 

“You know my grandson?”

Dammit, Klaus did. At least, he did the first time around. 

When he left the academy, many moons ago, Klaus hadn’t been on the streets right away. 

For a while, he’d surfed couches, mostly those belonging to ‘friends’ made at various nightclubs and bars. If he was honest, they all blurred into each other as he bounced from place to place. 

But for one month, in 2009, he’d stayed with a Mr Robert Hyde and his then-boyfriend, Mr Brent Summers. 

He’d met them about a week before at The Glimmer, a small, local and kind of seedy gay bar on the east side. They’d all been young, very drunk, and they’d bonded over a love of glitter, six-inch heels and Iggy pop. 

At the time, Klaus had just been kicked to the curb by a very shitty ex-boyfriend ( _good riddance_ , as Ben had said). 

They’d been dancing after a few shots, and he mentioned offhand that he was looking for a place to stay. They’d only known each other a few days, but they’d offered him their couch without a second thought. 

To be honest, that month was one of the better parts of the late ‘00s. Klaus was warm and dry, the two love birds were tooth-rottenly adorable, and man, could Bobby cook. Klaus had even managed to hold down a small job at the local corner store since he had a home address and a place to shower. It was just stacking shelves, nothing special, but shit. 

For once, he actually had like, money and a roof. At the same time. 

Score.

They’d laughed a lot, smoked metric tonnes of weed, and Ben even liked Brent’s taste in music. 

Klaus can’t remember how it had ended. It was amicable enough, he thinks. Something about parents visiting and making good impressions etc. Or maybe their Landlord didn’t like having a druggie vagrant prone to pretty loud night terrors sleeping on their couch. 

Either way, he didn’t take it personally. Klaus knew he was a lot. 

They’d fallen out of touch, but the last he’d heard they were getting hitched. And, if memory serves, they’d taken on a little food joint not far from this part of town. 

Huh. 

Klaus looks at Maria, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed by- what is that? 

Oh. It’s longing. 

Christ, it's coming off her in waves, and Klaus isn’t sure how but it's welling up deep inside his own chest and threatening to bubble right over. He registers that familiar tug and realizes he’s doing it again. Forging a connection, bringing her forward. Maybe this empathy or whatever was a side effect?

Or maybe Klaus understood what it was like to miss someone. To wonder if they’re okay, wherever they are. 

Stupid powers. 

She’s very obviously tethered here, it's part of the problem with graves and memorials. Ghosts tend to go where they were called. 

It's a shame really because, if Klaus is right, her grandson is about thirty minutes away on foot. It’s a nice part of the city too, he hasn’t had a chance to visit it yet. 

He stands up abruptly. 

“Wait, are you leaving so soon?”

He grins. 

“I’m afraid we are, sweetheart. Get your coat,”

She raises an eyebrow. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t leave here. I never can,”

“Ah you see, I’m a bit of a rule-breaker,” 

He holds out her hand and gives her a wink. Sceptical, she takes it, her eyes widening as her grip tightens around Klaus’ fingers. She stands, the tethers behind her stretching.

He pulls her towards him, and the lines snap. 

“How are you doing-?”

“- Oh don’t worry about that now. Fancy a stroll?”

Her hands tighten around his offered elbow, and he leads her away through the trees. They walk in silence, well, Klaus might be humming to himself, as she keeps looking up with questioning but hopeful glances.

They walk a block, and then another and then another. It's a bit of a trek, but it's no time at all until they reach their destination. 

It's a nice place, decorated with string lights and weathered paint. It looks like it's been here a long time. There’s a faint aroma of spice that makes Klaus’ stomach gurgle, and the front door is flanked by two brightly coloured pot plants. 

Maria gasps. 

It's late, so all the customers are long gone. But there, leaning against the kitchen counter is her grandson. 

He’s dressed in chef’s whites, with a rather fetching purple tie hung around his throat and a pair of chunky black boots. Klaus can’t help but approve. 

He’s talking to someone unseen as he flips through a stack of order bills, his lip caught between his teeth. 

Settling down suits Bobby apparently, and this only becomes clearer as another man dressed in all black leans over the counter. He leans forward for a quick peck on the lips, unaware they are being watched, before going to untie his apron. 

It's unbearably domestic, they’re clearly still sweet on each other after all this time, and it's eye-watering familiar. 

Klaus tries very hard not to think about ... well, if he said who it was, that was thinking about it. 

Instead, he looks down at his companion, whose hands have come up to her face. Her eyes are large and shiny, but she’s grinning from ear to ear. 

It brightens her, reaching the crinkles around her eyes as she takes a breath. 

“Oh, he looks … now he looks very well doesn’t he!”

She looks up at him. 

“That kitchen is spotless, oh my Javier would be so proud. And that smell, oh it's just like when he was a boy-,”

That's interesting. The dead woman can smell the spice too. Learn something new every day. 

Klaus almost knocks on the window. 

These guys were nice, thoughtful. They were there for him in a crappy time, for as long as they could. Not a lot of people had done that when he left home, all those years ago.

But that was another time, another life. This was another Bobby and Brent, and to be honest Klaus wouldn’t even know where to start. It doesn’t hurt anywhere near as much as fake Ben, but even the smallest wounds are best left unpicked. 

Bobby puts the papers away and walks round to join his partner in the kitchen, pausing to flip off the front house lights. 

Klaus and Maria are left alone under the lamp posts. 

Klaus curses. 

This isn’t about him and his baggage ( _Isn’t everything_ , a familiar voice jibes). This nice little old English lady deserves to see her grandson and dammit he’s gotta try and-

“-I could call them over if you like? You could, I don’t know, say goodbye?”

She’s silent for a moment, before she whispers. 

“He looks so happy. He’s got himself a nice young man too-,” 

She sniffs, with her eyes closed. 

“He’s moved on, good yes, he’s moved on,”

Okay, maybe visiting hours aren’t required. He isn’t proud of the relief he feels. To be honest, Klaus wasn’t sure how his old not-Roommates would react to some weirdo wandering in, claiming to have their dead grandma on the line. 

She’s quiet again. It's just the two of them in front of the empty shop front, no traffic, no passers-by. 

He decides to let her think for a while as he takes in the quiet, running his hands along the brickwork. 

Unfortunately, Klaus doesn’t do well in silence. 

“So, um, you weren’t kidding about his taste in clothes. Honestly, I swear he stole half my wardrobe-,”

Maria wraps her arms around his middle. Her bathrobe is soft, and her grip firm and Klaus can’t help but think for a moment of Grace. 

She sniffs, then looks up at him. 

“Oh thank you! Thank you so much! I’ve missed - I’ve missed him so much, he’s such a good boy” 

Klaus splutters, still registering the little old lady’s surprisingly firm grip. He splutters further when she pulls him down and plants a kiss on his cheek. 

Huh. Okay. 

He leads her away from the window back to the edge of the block, her hand still held tight around his arm. 

“Young man thank you I’ve been so-,”

She pauses, looking down at herself.

“What's this I- I feel like I’m- I think I’m going to-,”

Here we go again. 

It's that light, the same from a few nights ago, and it’s spreading across her fingertips and up her arms. It sparkles in her eyes and shimmers in her silver hair. 

Unlike before, she doesn’t seem to understand what's happening. 

Klaus speaks before he thinks. 

“No no no don’t panic, don’t panic it’s alright - hey! Maria!”

She looks up at him, holding a firm grip on his arms. 

“You’re okay, it’s okay. Can’t you feel it?”

He can. 

It’s that strange, detached kind of peace, welling up in his chest and through his stomach. He places his hands on her shoulders. 

“I think that's your queue, ma’am. You’re needed in the great upstairs,”

He rubs his thumb along the furry lining of her robe and tries to even out his breathing so she can follow. Her brow furrows, then relaxes as she understands. 

“Oh I see, I think I see, yes,” 

She smiles again, that sage, wisened smile that manages to calm Klaus’ shaky nerves too. 

“I think, I think I’m ready. Ready to see my Javier again I think,”

Klaus agrees. Her image is beginning to … splinter. 

“Sure I mean...," 

He’s no good at this, what should he say? Something encouraging, or comforting, probably. 

What would he normally do? Probably something inappropriate. 

What would Ben do? 

Klaus nods.

“Well, you’ve been waiting for a long time. Go get him!” He smiled, nudging her in the side. 

Maria laughs, the sound bubbling out of her in delight. 

“I will! I will!”

Her light reflects off the pavement and the glass. Klaus idly wonders if anyone else might be able to see it too if they were there. 

“Thank you, thank you so much. I never thought … what can I do? Is there anything?”

 _You could hug me again,_ he thinks. _That was nice, surprisingly warm_. 

But she doesn’t seem like much in a state to do that, she’s half gone already. But maybe - 

Well, he’s already sent one ghostly memo. 

“Uh, you cant actually, um ... if you see a guy, yea tall, stupid jacket. Probably in an eternal library or something else suitably lame, named uh - Ben? Give him my earthly regards and-,”

He pauses. What else should he say? He had quite a long list last time. 

Oh yeah. 

“Tell him he owes me $5”

He barely suppresses a snort. This will get the bastard. 

“Tell him ... Five still hasn’t taken the uniform off. It's been a week, he’s had so many opportunities to trade it in, but he’s turned down jeans every time, the little geriatric weirdo,”

If she’s confused, Maria doesn’t let it show. 

“Of course, of course”

Does he have anything else? He doesn’t think so. There’s always next time- 

Huh... not now. 

“Yeah, tell him that from me? If you see him?” 

Maria nods. 

“Anything, anything at all,”

She smooths what's left of her clothes, then her hair. With a final, warm smile, she says-

“Goodbye young man. You take care of yourself now!” 

She shimmers.

She drifts. 

And Klaus is alone on the street. 

He can still feel her pressure on his arms, but there's none in his chest. The late-night breeze rustles his hair and he exhales. 

He gives La Riviera one last look before turning back around the corner. 

Klaus decides he should be more broken up that that's the second friend he's made in four days, and both of them have pissed off to the beyond at the first opportunity. He probably should be offended.

But he’s not. 

Instead, he wonders if Ben liked Mexican food and if the dead could get it on the other side.

He must do, right? What's the point of heaven if it's not ‘all-you-can-eat’?

As he walks home, he’s got a slight canter to his step, sloping across the paving slabs and dragging his hands along the low rise walls.

He makes a mental note to swing by this place again.

Bobby really could cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!! 
> 
> I'm having so much fun writing mini ghost OCs you guys it's great. 
> 
> Thank you for the really lovely comments on the last chapter, they really made my week ^_^
> 
> I hope you liked this one, and thanks for reading!!!!


	3. Where We're Going

_If I’m gonna keep doing this_ , Klaus thinks as he checks his hair in the bathroom mirror, _I may have to invest in a scarf_. 

The light is dim, but he takes a minute to examine his reflection. He’s wearing the same long back coat from the 60s, though he really misses his fuzzy one from the first timeline because it was couture dammit, paired with a knitted turtleneck and black skinny jeans. 

He’s never looked so understated in his life. It’s a shame. He _oh so loved_ shiny things and showing a bit of skin, but urgh. He knows better than most how cold it gets on the streets at night. And you know, maybe Ben was onto something about the practicality of his outfit choices. 

He stands by the mesh crop tops though. It’s a look he’s willing to suffer for. 

Klaus is almost ready to go, tonight’s first ‘client’ is waiting outside, and he just needs to fix his makeup before he leaves. He can’t let the ghosties be wanting now, can he? 

Since Maria, he's started to attract some more uh, spiritual attention. Of course, he’s been rebuilding his usual spectral entourage. They’re the typical ghostly brand of loud and gruesome, demanding bloody revenge and violent justice on people as long-dead as them. It took a few days for them to register him as the lone supernatural beacon, but Klaus’ luck could only last so long. He really could do without the headache, and they make pretty lousy dinner guests. 

But now, every so often, there is someone different. 

They may start out like the others, muttering and crying or simply not there at all. But with a little attention, his stomach _twists_. 

Something behind their eyes clears, and it’s like they can think again. Finally, Klaus can have a semi-decent conversation. 

He’d be lying if he could spot much rhyme or reason to it. He could walk past a place a hundred times with nothing but the usual wailing spectre. He’d long learned just to keep on strutting. 

But if he went past again in a different mood, different outfit or at a different time of day, he might make himself a brand new travelling companion.

It could be anything, from the clothes they wear, the words they mutter, to the spot they stand in. Klaus recognises a spark of _something_ , and for a little while, he’s no longer walking alone. 

He asks, speaking firmly over the din gathering around him _“hey, what’s your name?”_ or _“hi, my name’s Klaus, what’s your damage?_ or one time _“sweetheart, where did you get your boots?”_ , and off they go, wherever the night takes them. 

It varies from day to day. He asks one man, Faisal if he’d like to come with him to the theatre. He knows a back way in (thanks Vanya), and maybe his son in the ballet troupe might like a few more seats filled up? If the old man fails to stifle tears when his only child comes under the spotlight, Klaus simply pats his shoulder and lets him enjoy the show. 

He spends the early hours of the morning with Daniel, searching the back alleys for his wallet with his girlfriend's engagement ring hidden in the pocket. He leaves it on her front step and knocks on the window. Daniel blows her an unseen kiss when she opens the door. Well, unseen to all but one. 

He sneaks around a parking lot with Janine, and they take great pleasure in keying her cheating, lying, scumbag of an ex-boyfriend’s brand new Porsche. They high five before she fades, and he practically skips home with semi-malicious glee. Judging by the shit he pulled, that asshole had it coming. 

He sees more of the city than he ever did the first time around (and that is saying something). He leaves at around midnight and comes home each morning at 5 am as the sun creeps over the skyscrapers. 

It's draining. Klaus hasn’t slept in … a while.

For every friendly stray he takes out, he’s bringing two less happy faces back with him. 

He’s cold, freezing in a way that only his powers can make him. 

He’s finding it hard to remember the last time he spoke more than two words to another living person. 

But he likes it. 

He likes not being under his dearly beloved siblings’ feet. He likes the company, meeting new, interesting (and dead) people.

He likes being useful. 

Klaus has never been good at the whole superhero thing. Shocker, he knows. Since the age of ten, he’d been designated the lookout and eventually, the liability. Because you know, drugs. 

The closest he’s ever got to the whole saving the day schlock was when he summoned Ben back in the theatre. Properly using his powers for the first time in almost two decades, they’d managed to get the edge on the commission’s grunts. It was the first win he’d had ummm… ever? Even then, if he was honest, it was his brother that did most of the day-saving. 

His powers were no good in a fight. Too passive, to immaterial. It's honestly beyond him why he was sent on missions at all. His siblings have expressed similar doubts. Multiple times. To his face. Nice to know when you’re wanted. 

So he always figured his otherworldly talents were no good for anything. Something to be suppressed, to be frightened of. Even when he pulled Ben back, glued him to his side and eventually made him a semi-corporeal presence, his tentative exploration of his ‘potential’ was limited at best, solely used for his brother’s benefit. And perhaps some light swindling on the side. 

Now Ben’s gone. 

He figured that's it, back to the old roadshow. Number Four; certified disappointment, not even good as a Ben whisperer (not that he was much use for that either). 

But now he’s not so sure. 

Because being a medium, or whatever? Turns out Klaus isn’t so bad at that. Now he knows how to reach them, keep the dead present and coherent (for the most part), all he had to do was talk.

And as his whole family can attest, Klaus is very good at talking. 

Sometimes he waits for them to come to him, there are plenty of lost souls running around after all. He reaches out, reaches through, and they grab on. Other times, he goes looking. He wanders around the streets late at night, and he spots them. Maybe their outfits are fire, maybe their wails are muffled and quiet and something twists in his heart. Maybe there's a little voice in his head, quiet but stubbornly firm, whispering _talk to them, Klaus_. 

So he does. 

He never thought he’d be any good as a “ghost therapist” or whatever, but apparently, the bar is low. He listens to their problems, sometimes shares a few of his own. They lead him where they need to go and Klaus does his best. 

It doesn’t always work. 

There's only so much a stolen glance or a returned trinket can do for a haunted soul. It's been a week, but 65-year-old Isaac Lockwood still follows Klaus around to this day, asking him to “ _-try again, please try again Klaus she’ll listen just talk-_ ”. 

Mary Wilson, a 25-year-old nursemaid, still begs him to “ _find his mother, please Klaus tells them it was not my fault I simply turned away I did not mean to-_ ”. 

In the mirror, Klaus can still see 45-year-old Tyler Jeffries, who begs “ _you have to help me you asshole you know you’re the only one who can-_ ”.

Klaus knows better.

It’s why this whole medium thing was kind of new. He _had_ actually tried to do this before. 

When he was young, around seven or eight years old, and his perceptive powers hadn’t fully allowed the full spectrum of shit to haunt his every move, there were only a few ghosts. They flickered around the outside of his gaze, very rarely becoming a full, conscious person. Even then they were mostly quiet, mostly placid, mostly sad. 

So when a little boy around Klaus’ age suddenly turns around after days and days of muffled sobbing and begs him to “ _-please Number Four, please let me see my mommy, I miss her so much I just need to see her-_ ”, the little Seance couldn’t say no. 

He’d not long got his own mother after all. So it’s only fair that the little boy, Ethan, should get to see his own mom too. 

Maybe she can kiss his broken neck better.

He snuck out of the Academy that night while everyone slept, tiptoeing past an eerily charging Grace, and out of the basement door. 

Ethan guides him to a little ground floor apartment a few blocks away, and low and behold, he could see his mother through the window. She was sitting quietly in an armchair, staring at nothing. The room is half empty but what’s there is a mess, scattered with bottles and cigarette packets. 

Klaus can’t remember what she looked like, or what Ethan said next. No sooner had his hands touched the sill when a much bigger pair clamped into his shoulder. 

In fairness, he was a little young to fully grasp what the camera in his bedroom was really for. 

Sir Reginald dragged him back home, throwing him into his office and demanding him to _explain yourself Number Four._ Klaus barely had time to start before Ethan appeared back in his vision. Relieved for the company in his father’s steely presence, he turns to face him, when the child releases an ear-piercing, heart splintering _shriek_. 

He didn’t stop for two days. 

On the third, Klaus began his special training. 

So yeah, up until now, he had very little motivation to break out the ouija board. 

He can’t quite put his finger on what’s changed now. Between two apocalypses, finding and losing his best friend and his first love, not to mention skip loads of amphetamines, a lot has been leading up to his latest way to pass the time. If nothing else, being able to keep hold of the spirits' sanity, however the hell he’s doing that, has to be making a dent.

It helps too that for every lost soul he makes friends with, it gets a little easier to tune out the rest. They’re still there, following them wherever they go, but with a specific ghost to focus on, their screams and sobs get a little quieter, a little easier to ignore. 

To be fair, he had sort of learned that one at rehab. 

So the failures, past and present don’t put him off. There's too many coming to him now, asking for little favours, little requests, he can’t bring himself to turn away. It's not like his family has much for him to do instead, anyhow. 

So he wanders around the backstreets, scours phone books and digs through the trash. Because the dead need him more than his flesh and blood siblings do. 

Besides, he may have an ulterior motive. 

It's not at the forefront of his mind as he listens to Estelle talk about her brother and how he _really needs to know where these photos are Klaus listen I’ll write it down for you_. 

But hours later when he finally waves her off to the beyond and she asks _please is there anything I can do?_ , he's got a good idea what he’s gonna say. 

Ben’s mailbox must be pretty full at this point. Every ghost, spectre and spirit that Klaus has waved on to the beyond has been sent through with a post-it note’s worth of hot Hargreeves gossip. 

They’re nothing special, sometimes it's just to say “hi”. But more often than not, Klaus is keeping his brother informed on all the BS he’s observed from their siblings as he sits on the sidelines. 

He tells him about Five, Allison and Vanya, pouring over maps and newspaper clippings looking for Intel and a way back home without fracturing the timeline further. He thinks Five’s heart might give out any minute, but Vanya whispered something in his ear for just the two of them, and he may have snorted Diet Coke out his nose. It’s good to see the little bastard smile, just for a second. 

He tells him how Diego has finally abandoned the leather spandex, though he’s still never not armed to the teeth, and how Luther brought home a second-hand record player last night. 

He tells him that the Backstreet Boys are touring around here next week, and he’s totally gonna find a way in to spite him, asshole. 

He tells him that it turns out Robert Louis Stevenson is actually not a bad writer after all. 

He has no idea if he’s actually getting through. As much as he’s been dumped on the little girl’s front porch a few times, Klaus has no clue how it all worked up there. 

Do ghosts all have their own little private paradise? Or do they all mill about in an eternal five-star shopping mall, liable to bump into each other at a moment’s notice? 

Sometimes, he wonders if Ben is even up there. If their meddling with the timeline has damaged this much, maybe his favourite brother (shh don’t tell him) has been permanently replaced by the unfashionable asshole he briefly glimpsed at the mansion. 

Five’s time travel bullshit adds a whole new level to Number Four’s deal. When is a dead person not dead? When they were written out of existence in the first place. Forgive Klaus if he tries not to think about that one too much. 

So maybe Ben can’t hear him. Maybe he’s by the lakeside, or in a bookstore, or wherever his corner of eternity is, enjoying a break from mortal burdens. (Klaus has been called worse) 

But fuck it. If his thing is supposed to be talking to dead people, you bet your ass Klaus is gonna. Even if they can’t actually hear him. 

So he stretches, fixes his eyeliner, and sneaks out of the fire escape. 

Luther, Allison and Vanya are watching a movie in the front room, so the main door is a no-no, and the hallway walls have been annexed as Five’s personal blackboard. 

When his boots hit the asphalt he turns to Simone, a 23-year-old accountant from Nice, France. She has half her chest missing, a tattered blouse and a stunning case of facial road rash. . He wishes her a pleasant _Bon Soir_. 

They start their meandering down the street, Klaus chattering away in confident French, happy to use one of the few parts of his education he actually enjoyed. They’re looking for her wife, who works late four blocks away, and he's busy fiddling with a lighter as he fishes two pre-rolled cigarettes out of his pocket. 

Tonight he’s decided he’ll tell Ben that, despite seeing it a thousand times and you know, their current situation, his siblings can still find time to watch Back to the Future (parts I, II and III). The movie network is having a marathon. It’s been on for hours. Five and Diego have left in protest. 

He’ll probably grab a burrito on the way out. Or maybe a tamale, he’ll see how he feels. 

He’ll sneak back in through the top window at God knows when. He'll then steal a few hours sleep before he drags himself back to the kitchen table. Rinse. Repeat. 

Look at him, making detailed evening plans that don’t involve a black eye or an overdose. He must be getting old or something. 

He thinks Ben might be proud of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's more a connective thing than plot, but it's actually what I wrote first as a one-shot before this started to grow, so there you go XD.
> 
> (Also, those of you who clocked the outfit Klaus is wearing - how excited are you for 'You Look Like Death' next week!!!!! I pre-ordered my issue today and I'm so hype!!!!!)
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments, you guys are all so nice!!!!!


	4. Where Do They All Come From

Diego thinks he's doing alright. 

The family is laying low, making plans to get back to their own timeline and no one has died yet. As far as the Hargreeves go, that had to be a win. 

Apart from that, they haven’t made much progress. He and Five have tried everything, but there’s no word from Herb and Dot. The Briefcase has run out of juice from their last trip and Five isn’t willing to risk a time jump to the commission headquarters. Instead, he’s graffitiing the corridors. They’ve all decided it’s best to leave him to it, with Diego dropping in every few hours to make him eat and talk to another human being. He’s only had chalk thrown at him twice.

Vanya and Allison have been digging through the papers looking for intel on the so-called “Sparrow Academy”. Turns out, they’re about as famous as they were back home. A weird array of powers too, one girl can summon crows or something? Another can walk through walls? Allison is working on the details.

The main difference? These guys never left. Somehow, they are seven, full-grown adult superheroes who managed to stay under one roof, under Reginald’s thumb, without one casualty. How they’d managed that is beyond all of them, but what they're sure of is that they’re a much better unit than the Umbrella Academy has been in a long, long time. Maybe ever?

They’re highly trained, reports of their missions are pages longer than they ever stacked up, and the body count … damn. 

Diego still likes their chances. 

He can’t wrap his head around there being others, like them. He’d always known that there had been more “miracle babies”, all born on the same day. It was emblazoned on every scrap of merchandise they'd ever had. But he’d figured the others, whoever they were, hadn’t made it. Or they’d grown up to lead normal, well-adjusted lives.

It was mad enough finding out that Lila - 

Lila. 

Diego had been trying not to think about her. It just … shit, it hurt every time. She could be anywhere, doing anything, all across space and time. Just when he thought they were getting somewhere, getting through, she’d left. 

Shit, why’d she have to leave? 

She’d tricked him, kidnapped him, tried to kill him. 

She’d also understood him. Seen right through him. 

He liked her. 

But there’s no time for that. 

He had shit to do, a lot to think about, and his family needed him. He couldn’t be hung up over some girl he liked. Especially since it’s gotten way more complicated than it already was. 

He knows, first hand, that she can take care of herself. 

He’s definitely not thinking about her. Definitely not. If Five had noticed the notes he slipped to Herb, asking to keep him posted if he heard something, and to let her know where he is if she pops up on their radar, he hasn’t brought it up. 

Lila’s not the only one he’s ignoring. 

Diego went out with Allison last week, doing a grocery run because he lost a coin toss to Luther. He and Vanya were having some in-depth discussion about Classical Vinyl, or whatever, and that stuck Number Two and Three with food duty.

They’d been in the checkout line when, for the first time in months, he heard her laugh.

Patch was standing there. Right there. In front of them, with her hair tied back and a pen behind her ear, chatting with a beat cop as they waited to be served. 

She looked … great. Shit, she’d looked so good. 

Happy, focused. 

Alive. 

She’d taken her deli bagel and her machine coffee (café latte, two sugars and packet cinnamon from home), and walked right out the door. Right past the newspaper stand. 

Right past him.

It hadn’t occurred to him she’d be here, in this timeline. 

But of course, she would. This Patch has never met him. Never had to finish his paperwork, never had to deal with his weird eating habits, never had to kick him off her crime scene. 

Never had to take his stupid, arrogant, _shitty_ advice.

She’d died four months ago, and fuck, it hurt. It hurt so bad. 

But he had to move on. 

He’d had to in the 60s, when he had no idea how long he’d be stuck in the nuthouse, in Dallas, in a whole other time.

He had to move on now. When she didn’t even know his name.

He doesn’t follow her. He buys a cream cheese bagel on the way out, talks to Allison about how freezing it gets in this city, and takes his feelings out on his bedroom wall. 

If Five can draw on his wallpaper, Diego can make stab marks in his.

So he's doing great. His family haven’t killed each other yet. They haven’t been murdered by their kind-of-sort-of-adopted siblings from an alternate timeline. They haven’t been kicked out by their creepy landlord. What's there to worry about?

Diego is awake well past midnight. Everyone else is asleep, and somehow, for once, ‘everyone’ includes Five. To be honest, it’s a relief for all of them. Maybe Allison drugged his coffee or Luther knocked him on the head. All Diego knows is that he can definitely hear him snoring the next room over. 

Number Two has no such luck. He’s too hyped up on everything to even try and lay down, so he assumes a position on the couch. He’s already clicked Luther’s new record player on, and it’s quietly humming an old Beatles album his brother got on sale. 

He takes out a knife, kicks his feet on the table and starts sharpening. It’s been a ritual for years, since he was eight years old, that barely touches his nerves anymore. But it’s familiar, he doesn’t have to think, and he can do it in the dark. 

He enjoys the peace for a moment, as the speaker croons;

“ _died in a church and was buried along with her name. Nobody came, Father Mackenzie-”_

He’s not sure how long he’s sat there, but he’s shaken from his trance when he hears a window _click_. 

Diego shuts off the record. 

He and Luther had taken precautions when they’d shacked up in this shit hole. They didn’t have much to work with, but the academy’s instructional posters on rudimentary defence had been thorough. They’d barricaded the front doors, installed trip lines around the entrance and found some cheap blackout blinds. They'd agreed to stay away from the windows during the day and to let the rest of them know if they left the complex. If they wanted takeout, for god's sake don’t get it delivered. Especially not under your real name, _Luther_.

It was nowhere near foolproof, but it was enough to give them a low profile and some notice should anyone try anything. 

They’d also installed locks on the bathroom windows. 

Diego’s at the door, armed and ready for a fight. He listens, turns the handle, and launches into the room. 

It’s empty. The window is shut. 

Huh. 

His instincts push him further though, as he ducks and crawls to the ledge and peers over the sill. 

He just catches the ends of a long black coat and cigarette smoke as a figure turns right out of the alley. 

Of course. 

Klaus. 

Diego wouldn't admit it, but he had sort of forgotten about his other brother. Between the apocalypse, JFK and _lilalilalila_ , Number Four had been low on his priority list. They’d had a brief reunion at Elliot’s, that stupid dinner with Dad and then he’d gone to fetch him from his creepy, pervy ass mansion. 

Except when he’d arrived, he didn't find Four, but Six 

Ben. 

Diego wasn’t sure how he felt about … all that. 

His littlest brother had been dead for 17 years. Then he was there, at the theatre. Then he was there, in front of him. He was uh, wearing, Klaus or whatever, but it was him. 

He knew things only Ben could know, and when he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, Diego didn’t know why, but it felt like _him_. He never wanted to let go. 

Then life got in the way again, he was kidnapped, then he dragged his siblings to the FBI building, then he … failed. 

And Ben was gone, again. 

On one hand, Diego is crushed. His brother, who he’d buried and mourned and _grieved_ , was right there. And now they’d never see him again, never get to say all the things he wished he did. 

But he never thought he’d get to say anything at all. It was a bonus, and shit, Ben had saved their asses. Now he’s in a better place. Number Six had died years ago. It was a scar that still itched, was still raised and definitely _there_ , but it’s healed. At least as best it can. 

He had to put it on a shelf, and carry on. They had bigger shit to deal with. 

Mainly, Ben’s alternate, possibly evil twin. Christ their lives were messed up. 

But Diego is trying very hard not to dwell on that either. Time travel was fucked up, they couldn’t spend time caught in the details. Not when there was bigger shit at stake. As Klaus had put it, ‘their’ Ben was “D. E. A. D.”, not coming back. Yeah, it was laced with his usual BS, but his brother had a point.

Thinking about it, that might have been the last complete sentence he’d got out of him in a while. 

Diego has noticed that Klaus has been … quiet. 

When they’ve gathered in the main room, with papers and maps and Five’s half-crazed scribbling spread across the coffee table, Number Four had barely made a sound. Usually curled up on the corner or perched on a stool, Klaus offers little more than the odd smirk, maybe a muttered aside. Most of the time, he’s not even paying attention, flicking through a book in his lap.

Yeah, thinking about it, that’s weird. Since when did Klaus read?

Diego would have said something but … it’s been a relief. They’ve got a lot of shit going on. They’re running a tight ship here and the last thing they need is Number Four to be ...himself. 

To be honest, Diego had expected him to join whatever Allison and Vanya were doing. He’d seen they’d gotten closer in the 60s, and he’d never been afraid to join “sister bonding” before. In fact, Diego is sure he had started it. 

But no, he’d stayed away. When he wasn’t called to a meeting, or lounging quietly on the couch, he stayed in his room, doing whatever it is Klaus does. He didn’t even show up when they got dinner anymore. 

Huh. 

So he can’t be bothered to pull his weight with the end of the world, but now he takes off in the middle of the night? They’d talked about this, you can’t just leave when-

Wait, was Klaus there when they’d agreed to that? Where the hell was he even going? 

Oh.

For fucks sake Klaus.

Allison had mentioned, offhand, that Klaus had been sober. When she’d found him, in his pool behind his weird-ass hippie den at the edge of town, she’d been impressed to find him coherent, present and drinking Coca-Cola with a bendy straw. She followed up with his drunken midnight visit a few days later, and the mumbled confession about a soldier, or something? He’d been steadily drinking ever since. 

He wonders when he’d gotten clean in the first place. Five mentioned that Klaus arrived in the 60s first, but Diego can’t remember how long he said he’d been there. Allison had been there two years, had he been sober all that time? Longer even?

It’s hard for Diego to imagine. He’d spent 70% of his twenties picking Klaus off the street, shoving a meal down his throat and giving him his couch for the night. When he’d seen Klaus again at the TV store, it felt like business as usual. Number Four was drunk and needed dragging back to reality. 

To be fair, he hadn’t seen him indulge his habits since they’d gotten here. But he hadn’t seen him, period. 

That’s what he’s been up to, huh? They’re all trying to save their asses, and Klaus is off on a bender. Diego’s pissed, but not surprised.

He could just go back to the front room. Klaus is like a cat; he’ll leave when he likes, then turn up again hours later when he wants something, usually feeding. Diego is sure that he’ll reappear tomorrow morning, high as a kite, like nothing happened. 

But dammit.

They’re supposed to be trying. Trying to be a family. To be better. Team Zero. He’s been more patient with Luther and Five, kinder to Allison and inclusive to Vanya. This has to involve Klaus too. 

He’s spent the better part of the late 2000s keeping Number Four in check, that can’t stop now. They’ve come too far.

So Diego doubles back down the hall to grab his jacket and follows his brother out the fire escape. 

It doesn’t take long to catch up to him, Klaus is hardly speeding. 

Diego thinks about walking right up, grabbing him by the collar and dragging back towards the building. But, even to him, that does sound like a dick move. Klaus at least deserves a warning before Diego tears him a new one. 

So he hangs back and decides to wait, following silently with his hands in his pockets. 

It takes a few minutes before he realises that his brother is talking. 

He’s about two hundred meters ahead, so Diego can’t make out what he says. But he’s leaning to one side, his lips are moving, and his hands are gesturing wildly. He points to a shop window and turns back to the empty space.

Huh.

Diego is used to Klaus talking to thin air. It’s part of his whole … deal. 

It had gotten subtler over the years. As a kid, Four had no problem asking an unseen intruder at the breakfast table to “stop staring at my sister, she’s trying to eat”, or telling an invisible figure to “get out of my brother’s bedroom you weirdo”. The rest of them hadn’t like that much. 

When they’d hit eight or nine, he’d quietened down. Instead of loudly declaring unseen spirits to the room, Klaus had hissed under his breath, muttered to his side, or laughed at something no one else could hear. A little less creepy, but no one liked hanging around in a house apparently full of dead people. Even if they were only bothering one of them. 

It had pretty much stopped by the time they were eighteen. As they all knew, Klaus can’t use his powers when he’s high, so any muttering or hysterical laughter was more the pills than anything …supernatural. 

Maybe, just maybe, he’d say something creepy as he came down, a half muttered aside in the back seat of Diego’s car. But that was rare, short and never coherent enough for a full conversation. 

Right now though, someone’s definitely responding. Klaus is talking loud as if there’s someone _right there_ , and then laughs as he takes a drag of his cigarette. 

There’s no one around for him to perform for. And as he takes a sudden left, it’s obvious he’s being guided somewhere. 

Well shit. 

Klaus is sober. 

Either that or he’s finally cracked. 

Shit. That’s pretty huge. 

Diego could go home now. God knows how long he’s going to walk this way and it’s fucking freezing out here. Whatever Klaus is doing, he’s not intoxicated. Judging by the direction he's not even heading towards a bar. He’s a grown-up, he’ll be fine. 

But if he’s not looking for a hit, what the hell is he doing? 

Diego follows silently, keeping in the shadows at a good distance. Klaus is too wrapped up in whatever he’s up to notice anything. He’s chatting like he’s with an old friend, walking with an easy grace and confidence. He laughs again.

Eventually, Diego finds himself in a park. Not as big as Central, but there's a shabby swing set and a few benches encased in a row of bushes.

Diego isn’t sure what he expected, but Klaus opens the gate, crosses the grass and dives straight into the hedge. 

Right. 

Diego hangs back behind the corner, but he can just about hear his brother call out behind him.

“Okay, you promise me it’s in here? 'Cause I’ve found $3, two empty beer cans and a very fetching pair of sneakers but I can’t see - oh wait!”

He emerges, brushing the twigs out of his hair with a triumphant grin. In the street light, he looks pale with shadows beneath his eyes and his face is little manic. He lifts his hands up to show his invisible companion, and something silver catches the light. Some kind of necklace? Diego isn’t sure.

He would get closer, but Klaus has taken off again. 

He’s still talking, slipping the chain into his pocket. 

“No way, I used to know a guy who had a sister who had a friend who worked there? Oh, I heard they make the most amazing chicken chow mein, urgh apparently it’s to _die_ for - and he was dead too so ya know - pretty good review!”

A pause. 

“Huh, well your sister has discerning taste- I’ll have to swing by and say hello,”

They’re now in a residential area. The streets are lined with brownstones, with high walls and well-lit streets. Diego hangs back further, slipping up the side alleys, but Klaus is still oblivious. 

“Yeah yeah, my brother and I used to come round here. I had this, uh friend, his name was … I wanna say, Michael? Yeah, he and his mom live the next street over. Man he could throw a party,”

…

“Yeah, that’s right. Hell, Ben did not like him at all, too loud, couldn't concentrate or whatever. I don’t know I thought he was great, made the _best_ tuna pasta bake too. God, I could eat it forever-,”

…

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. My brother. Yeah, uh … yeah, he’s gone now. The bastard had to go and save the world, you know how it is-,”

Klaus tucks his hair behind his ear. He laughs nervously, before changing the subject. 

Diego frowns. 

Klaus had mentioned Ben, in the week after he died. The day following his funeral, when the coffin was still sat in the snow-covered courtyard, Four had turned to the empty seat next to him at breakfast and asked, loudly, what Number Six wanted to eat. He even pulled out Ben’s chair. 

Klaus was clearly drunk, in no state to summon anything, and Diego was furious. 

He’d take a lot from Number Four, but he didn’t get to use Ben in his endless campaign for attention. That was too far.

There was still a small, vertical hole in the dining room wall to the day of Dad’s funeral. Reginald had it covered with yet another framed news clipping, but Number Two’s fury couldn’t be patched up that easily. 

Klaus hadn’t mentioned Ben again. 

Good. There are some things you don’t bullshit about.

At least, that’s what Diego had thought. Until the theatre.

He has no clue how his brother's powers work, none of them do. But seeing Ben, grown and whole and _glowing_ right in front of them, was… wow. 

And when Diego thought about it, in months after in the asylum, it put a lot of things in context; whispered bickering to empty space, quiet hums of agreement in a silent room. Little details Klaus shouldn’t know, about Diego's apartment, people on the next floor, books he definitely hadn't read. 

So maybe Klaus did summon Ben, from time to time. Talked to him, kept him company, brought him back. How that worked when he was off his face, Diego didn’t know. But maybe … maybe he wasn’t lying when they were kids. Maybe some of those mumbled asides in Diego’s backseat weren't the pills. Perhaps his brother was summoning their dead sibling for a quick, half sober rendezvous. It was nice, to think he was checking in with their quietest number. 

Despite being polar opposites, the two had always had a comradeship as kids the others couldn't understand. Weird in-jokes, practically glued at the hip on missions, quiet words on off days. They weren't the closest, but close enough for an easy trust that was hard to come by in the Hargreeves household. Perhaps that bond, whatever it was, could have reached beyond the grave. 

Diego had decided, in his cell, that he would apologise to Klaus next time he saw him.

But yeah, shit happened. Things got in the way. 

Then Klaus lied about summoning Ben in the 60s? What was that about? 

Then Ben possessed him. 

Now Ben had moved on.

_D. E. A. D._

Thinking about it, what did that mean for Klaus? Diego knows jack shit about the afterlife, doesn’t want to know if he’s honest. But the way Klaus was talking when they’d arrived, Number Six was gone. Moved somewhere even his brother with the third eye can’t see. 

Klaus couldn’t summon him anymore. 

Diego hadn’t thought about that. 

But Ben has been dead for years, it’s been a long time. 

Right?

Klaus is okay, right?

Diego is pulled out of his thoughts when he sees that his brother has stopped.

He’s paused, now leaning against a trash can, and reaching back into his pocket. To Diego’s surprise, he pulls out an envelope, followed by a gel pen. Hang on, wasn't Five looking for those yesterday? 

Klaus turns to the side.

“Okay, what’s his name again?” … “Now that is a nice name, where did you say you guys are from again?” … “Huh, must put it on the bucket list,”

He writes on the front, flamboyantly signing off with three kisses underneath. He then takes the silver chain from his pocket. 

Diego can see a little better in this light, and it’s a locket. Oval shaped, with an engraving on the front. Looks old and a little tarnished, but pretty fancy. Like it’s been well worn over the years.

Klaus slips it inside the paper and seals the lid. He gestures to thin air, then continues down the street. 

Eventually, he stops. 

“So it’s this one, yeah? Great, ooh it looks swish!”

He saunters gracefully up the steps of an old brownstone building. Diego watches as his brother places the envelope on the doormat and knocks four times. 

He quickly ducks back around the corner before the front door opens. 

A man steps out, older in his late 50s, with an open-collared shirt, gray slacks and blue slippers. It’s late but he’s still dressed, and there's a beer in his hand. Diego can tell the rest of the house is empty.

He looks across the street and calls out “ _Hello?_ ” before his eye catches the envelope. He places his beer out of sight behind him before leaning down with a wince to retrieve it. He examines the front, his brow furrowing, probably at Klaus’ usual loopy scrawl. 

He then opens it, right there on his front step. His mouth drops open as he fishes its contents across his fingers.

He chokes back a sob.

The man runs forward to take another look across the road, but Klaus has slunk back further into the shadows. Diego knows he’s too well hidden to be seen on the other side either. The man looks down at the delicate trinket in his hands, and Diego just makes out a quiet mumble.

“... thank you”

His hands come up to wipe under his glasses, and he turns, cradling the item gently to go back inside the house. The hall light doesn’t go out immediately, but soon Diego and Klaus are left standing in the dark street.

Klaus grins. He calls his invisible friend over and slaps the air around his chest. 

“Well there you go, one package signed, sealed and delivered. Seemed pretty glad of it too, though I’d pick a different shirt before he put it on _oof-_ ,”

Klaus exhales sharply, but as Diego reaches for his belt he relaxes, letting out a laugh and bringing his arms up. 

“Hey no problem, no problem. I couldn’t sleep knowing something so _darling_ was left lying in the dirt. Besides-,“

He’s kneeling down now, looking straight ahead.

“I’m sure your pops was wondering where it got to, and it’s not your fault it went a wandering,”

He punctuates that with a wink. 

Diego strained to hear a few more murmurs before a sharp pain spread across his eyes. 

He cursed, rubbing them frantically, before opening them again to see a flash of _something_ echo across the street. 

It’s blue, growing brighter, and it's right in front of where Klaus is crouching. It’s reflecting off the sidewalk and makes the windows shine. The whole street is highlighted with the piercing, chilling _familiar_ glow.

Klaus doesn’t seem bothered. Actually, he’s smiling wider. 

Diego squints and realises that the light is a shape. The light is a person. The light is a … kid?

They’re short, skinny and dressed in black, with choppy hair and dark nails. Diego can just about see their face. They have a small, shy smile made clearer with black lipstick, and their hands are resting on top of Klaus’ palms. 

They’re speaking quickly, and Diego can’t hear a word, but Klaus nods

“Actually pal, there is something yeah,”

He beckons them closer, and whispers in their ear. 

The kid laughs, Klaus ruffles their hair. 

When he leans back, he adds- 

“Can you tell him that for me?”

The figure is… coming apart now. 

Diego can’t understand what he's looking at, his head hurts too much. His brain can’t keep up but there’s definitely … less of them than there was a second ago. 

When the kid nods, his brother smiles and, for good measure, holds up his hand [GOODBYE].

“Looks like she’s ready for you, buddy, tell the little bitch I said hey,”

The kid slaps their hands together, breathes out and it goes dark. 

Klaus stands up stretching his hands over his head. he then reaches into his pocket and lights up a cigarette.

Diego catches his breath.

Before he can think, his brother is walking back towards him, taking another look at the old man’s building. By the time he reaches the corner, Klaus is already talking to someone else. 

Diego slips away before they see him. 

\----

He takes the long way round, but Diego is back before his brother. It took some time, but the walk did nothing to clear his head. 

He stands at the kitchen table in the dark, because the light fixture is loud and everyone else is asleep. He picks at a tube of potato chips. 

So that’s what Number Four has been up to. 

It's a nice surprise, a relief to find he’s sober. Diego did not want to drag his skinny butt all the way across town. Klaus gets hyper when he’s high, and sloppy when he’s drunk. Trying to fit him over his shoulder is a skill Diego has taken years to perfect, and his knees are grateful for the break. 

But why didn’t he say anything? 

Diego always figured if Klaus did get his shit together, he would never hear the end of it. He’d turn up on his front doorstep, whining every step of the way and throwing a full-blown party for each minute he wasn’t plastered. It’s a fundamental truth; Klaus Hargreeves loves attention and will do anything for it. If he did manage rehab longer than court mandated thirty days, the family should know about it. 

He guesses that “if” had gotten bigger over the years. But Diego should have noticed. 

He still feels a flickering swell of pride. Klaus never talked about the ghosts, his powers, nothing. What little the family gathered was from fleeting references and their Dad’s constant criticism. But it was clear that Klaus was afraid, and always has been. 

“ _The pills make them quiet_ ”, Klaus had whispered once, in the morning's early hours as he lay sprawled across Diego’s couch, 

Diego was still in the dark, but he'd understood then, on some level, that Klaus didn’t want to face his powers. Why? Diego couldn’t say. But he had guessed it was because his little brother just couldn’t handle it. 

When had that changed? Why hadn’t he said anything?

And what in the name of sanity was that light-?

The front door unlatches and Diego is pulled out of his spiral. 

He stills, reaching again for his belt and ready for intruders when a breathy sigh confirms that Klaus is finally home. He’s being quiet, slipping off his boots and treading softly over the threadbare carpet. Diego didn’t know he had it in him. 

Klaus almost walks straight past the open kitchen door before he jumps. 

“Christ Diego, warn a guy next time?” 

He has his hand resting on his chest, with wide eyes and stuttering breath. In this light, he looks exhausted, his usual pallor highlighted by his mane of dark hair. 

“Sorry man, I didn’t-,”

They’re staring at each other in the dark, and Diego isn’t sure what to say. He suddenly doesn’t want to admit he’d been following him, that he hadn’t trusted him, a grown man, to go out alone. It felt like the right call when he’d left, but now, he feels like he’d intruded.

Diego doesn’t like being lost for words. He speaks again.

“You good man? Where you been?”

Klaus raised his eyebrows before a lazy smile spread across his face.

“Oh, you know me brother mine. Out on the town, making some lovely new friends, enjoying all that this exciting new timeline has to offer,”

He’s not lying. But he’s not telling the truth either. 

“On your own?”

There's a beat of silence before Klaus speaks again. His voice shakes, just a little, and Diego clocks how his hands fiddle with his coat. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to ... distract any of you, besides, my uh ... interests and yours don’t really overlap,”

Again, he’s not lying. 

Diego shakes his head and runs his thumb across his brow. 

“Right,” 

He should say something. Just say something. 

Say what? 

Fuck, when did this get so hard? 

“Just uh- Just look after yourself alright? It’s, uh, you know this timeline is different and uh, we’re not safe here. I don’t wanna have you wandering only for me to pull your ass out of trouble,”

Not quite, but it’s too late to start over. 

“Oh Diego, you’re such a Prince charming” 

“No, really I’m serious. Hey-,”

He reaches across to take Klaus’ shoulder. 

Klaus tenses. Diego frowns, but lets go. He holds his hands up. 

“I mean it, bro. Too much has happened, understand? We can't have you getting shanked or… something,”

He pauses.

Klaus is silent. Diego should alert the newspapers. He sighs, running his hands over his face before looking his brother in the eyes. 

“You need something, you gotta let me know, alright?”

Klaus is staring at him. His eyes are wide but suspicious. Diego is not used to such a guarded look from his usually easy-going, open little brother. But it’s gone as quick as it came. The crooked grin is back, as he tilts his head and smacks his hand across Diego’s shoulder. 

“Awww, Di, you do care, I’m so touched!” 

He leans back to stand in the door frame, angling his body towards the corridor. 

“You do know how to make a girl feel special!”

Diego smirks. Asshole.

“I promise I’ll do my best not to get stabbed, maimed or otherwise dismembered whilst walking our dangerous city streets”, Klaus declares with a hand on his heart. He grins, and it almost reaches his eyes. 

Almost.

Diego sighs, shaking his head. When he looks up Klaus is already walking down the hall. 

Diego goes to put his chips back in the cupboard when he hears a quiet breath.

“It’s not like I won’t get up again anyway,”

Wait, what?

The bedroom door clicks before he can say anything else and Diego is alone in the kitchen. He leans back against the counter.

What time is it? …Shit, he needs to sleep.

It's almost 5 am. Living with his siblings means they’re all on Luther’s time, meaning up at 8 am without fail (moon routines never leave you, apparently). He's not dragging them all out of bed with him or anything, he knows better than to deliberately piss off Five, but Luther’s steps are heavy and he’s liable to knock things over. 

Yeah, sleep is a good idea. 

Diego wanders down the corridor and slips into his own bare bedroom. 

He tugs his boots off and falls, face down, on the mattress. When Diego shuts his eyes, he remembers that cool, blue glow. He remembers Klaus’ kind words to thin air and his mistrust in the kitchen doorway. 

He’s still not sure exactly what his brother was doing. He can make a guess, talking to ghosts, doing them favours, yeah. He’s not an idiot. But he still doesn’t know _why_. 

His brother wore his heart on his sleeve, a classic open book. It had scared him for years that one day his vulnerable, sensitive sibling might get hurt. He’d worried he’d take too much of something, piss off the wrong people, lose touch with reality completely. 

It’s why, despite everything, he’d never failed to answer his phone when he called.

When did Klaus stop calling?

Since when did Number Four become a mystery to him?

Diego does fall asleep, but he doesn’t rest easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!!!! 
> 
> Decided to switch up the POV so we can finally see what the sibs have been up to all this time! Writing Diego was a bit of a challenge but I love him so it was a lot of fun!
> 
> Might be a bit of a gap for the next chapter - Uni is about to start up again so my schedule has filled up quite dramatically in the last few days xD I promise to try and get it out soon tho (I need it for downtime tbh)
> 
> Thanks again for all your lovely comments!!!!
> 
> (oooh who else is so excited for 'You Look Like Death' tomorrow? My copy is coming with the post tomorrow morning and I am so hyped!!!!!!!)


	5. Turn The Inner Eye To See Its Path

Klaus has decided to call it a night. 

He’s just waved off Peter, a 45-year-old florist who’d asked him to deliver a 21st Birthday card to his daughter through the apartment window to his left. He was a nice chap, loved a bit of Chopin, and the two of them had spent the early evening picking out a suitable design from a local gas station. 

It's early, just gone 2 am, and Klaus is absolutely beat. Maybe all these late nights are catching up to him, or maybe the spring chill is getting deep into his bones at last. He thinks that he deserves half a night off. This medium thing is a full-time job. Late nights suit it very well but it doesn’t lend itself to any kind of healthy sleeping patterns. 

Maybe Diego deserves an early night too.

Klaus still isn’t sure what to make of their morning encounter a few nights ago. He’d snuck in some time after 5 am, and his brother had frightened the bejeezus out of him as he loomed in the kitchen doorway. He went to scold him for frightening his delicate nerves and slip away without incident. 

He’d been surprised, however, to find Number Two looking just as … disturbed. 

Diego had stared at him as if, forgive the phrase, _he’d seen a ghost_. That would have been fine, Klaus has been told he erred on the creepy side sometimes. What he hadn’t expected was his brother to stumble his way through some kind of … well Klaus didn’t know what it was. 

All he knew was that ever since Diego has been acting … different. 

It had been mostly business as usual. The six of them crowded into a tiny kitchen with Five and Allison comparing notes on Sparrows and time travel blah blah. However, unlike every other family meeting where Klaus would be able to sit to the side and read a magazine or whatever in peace, he found himself under surveillance. 

As he perched on the kitchen counter while his family wittered on about the commission (Five’s trying to fix the briefcase or whatever and judging by the vein popping at his temple, it’s not going well), he’s been painfully aware of his brother’s eyes boring into his forehead. 

As they’d adjourned, with Klaus making moves towards his room to chat with Janice, a 68-year-old ex-nurse who’d taken to following him around the last few days, he’d caught Diego murmuring something to Allison. 

Nothing he’d been interested in, but he heard his name, followed by something like “ _...keep an eye...late last night…_ ”. 

She’d nodded, and Klaus had definitely not bristled as he walked down the corridor, feeling their gaze on his back. 

There’s more. On top of all that, the last few nights he’s been coming home to find Diego strewn across the couch. He’s had a record going, playing with sharp objects as he’s often wont to do, and trying not to make it obvious he’s waiting up for him. He grunts in acknowledgement and sometimes nods to a pack of unopened chips waiting on the coffee table. He eyes him suspiciously, then goes back to his knives. 

Klaus isn’t sure what to make of it all. 

They’re clearly dancing around something and Diego is being strangely indirect in his approach. It's a far cry from a few years back. Klaus remembers sitting silently in his brother's car, nursing a bottle as he poked, prodded and outright demanded he tell him what the fuck was up after his little outburst in the vets' bar. 

He probably wants to know where Klaus is going, why he’s sneaking out at odd hours and why he’s being so … quiet. Diego isn’t dumb, no matter what Five says, and deep down underneath all his temper and gruff bravado, there are a few ounces of emotional intelligence. 

Deep, deep down. 

Klaus feels a bit like a badger, being coaxed out a hole with the lure of snacks by an absent but insistent naturalist. 

He could bite. It’s what he’s been looking for, isn’t it? He’s been wandering around the city, waxing lyrical about having … someone. And out of all his siblings, Diego had been the most present in his life before Dad died. He cared, he’d never been very good at hiding it, and Klaus had long been willing to capitalise on that when he’d needed a ride or food or a place to crash. 

He’d understand, maybe? He’d given a shit enough to force it out of him before. Diego’s waiting for him to share with the class.

But … Klaus isn’t gonna. 

Diegos a busy guy, he’s just doing this weird little ritual because … shit Klaus doesn’t know. Maybe he’d seen something? Spotted Klaus moping about during the day, probably. Just wanted to make sure he wasn’t a liability to all their plans. That's probably why he’d clued Allison in, another certified Four-wrangler to keep an eye on their flightiest number. 

Klaus doesn’t need another babysitter, thanks. He’s dealing just fine.

So Klaus has decided to ignore him. He waves at Diego as he passes by him each morning, swipes whatever offering he's been left and slinks into his room like nothing happened. 

If he smiles a little to himself, enjoying the lingering warmth of another living person’s attention even for a few seconds, then he pushes it down quickly. He’s always been self-indulgent, but he’s learning he’s not much use to the living. It's best to stay out of their way. 

So he’s planning on clocking out and taking his brother off the night watch early. His ghostly entourage is quiet, and no one else looks like they’re gonna offer up an adventure for the evening. 

As he walks down Cannon Avenue, lit only by street lights and a few 24hr corner stores, Klaus feels surprisingly… fine. He’s fallen into a routine, and he’s found having something to cling to in all this bullshit is a good thing. His rehab therapist had always said he should get a hobby. 

He’s never been more _with_ his powers, actually. Klaus can’t speak for his potential or whatever, but the dead are humming at the back of his skull in a way he’d never experienced before. He’s let the ghosts through like he wouldn’t have even considered five years ago, and he allows them to linger at the edges of his eyes without much worry. 

He can’t make them go away, can’t _control them_ or anything. But he can negotiate. He deals with them as long as they form an orderly queue and those who disagree he can tune out with a bit of effort. It's an uneasy truce, and the longer he listens, lets the dead in, the more the increasingly familiar ice seeps into his limbs. 

After spending so long clinging to the living, he’s tipped the scales in the other direction. He’s nowhere near at a balance yet, he’s teetering if anything, but fuck, he’ll take what he can. 

At least he’s not on ket.

So Klaus’ office hours are over, he’s pulled the blinds down to his spectral clientele, as it were. He’s looking forward to seeing his bed. He might even get a stunning five hours tonight before Luther blunders his way into the kitchen, and he may have heard Vanya mentioning something about pancakes? He’s totally swiping some of that on his way through. 

Hell, that store is still open and he swiped some cash off the counter earlier, he could grab some syrup on his way up, because Vanya is some heathen grown-up who probably puts fruit on it or some shit. 

He could even grab Diego something as a peace offering. Bring him back a snack to get him off his back or maybe-

BANG

BANG BANG BANG

Klaus hits the deck. 

The world has fogged over, the air is stifling and Klaus is _ducking, pulling his helmet over his forehead. Choppers fly over as smoke fills his lungs and he breathes and breathes and breathes and he’s choking Jesus Christ that was a close one-_

_BOOM_

_Now he’s leaning over and he’s in his hands and he’s bleeding. Oh, Jesus, there's so much blood and he's trying to speak but he can’t please god no not him please not him no no no no nO NO NO NO._

 _He needs help please someone please help him. Anyone please he needs a meDIC PLEASE ANYONE HE NEEDS A MEDIC_

“Hey, son you’re okay, you’re okay it's alright-,”

_Wait, what? Uh he’s - ___

____

____

“Just breathe in and out for me son. You’re alright, you’re not there-,”

_Who is that? Where’s Dave he can’t see it’s too-_

“You’re in 2019. You’re alright, you’re safe here friend, just keep breathing,”

There’s a hand on his shoulder, and … concrete? Wait where-

Klaus blinks, and he's on the floor. Leaned against a dumpster, his hands are up over his ears. His lungs are full of gas, and his heart is hammering in his chest and he can hear the _click click click BANG BANG BANG_

“That's right son come back down with me, you’re okay that’s right,”

A breath shudders through his throat and Klaus exhales. And again. And again.

He’s in an alley, he can see the gas station across the street and smell the garbage behind him.

“Yeah, there we go, here you are that's it,”

There's someone next to him. A man, an old man. Early 80s? He’s crouched at Klaus’ shoulder, his wrinkled brow creased with concern.

“There we are, hello. Hello, can you hear me, son?”

Klaus breathes, wiping his hands across his face. They come away wet as he drags his fingers down his face.

“Son? Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?”

His name? Yeah his name uh … Four? _no SHIT_ uh-

“K-Klaus,”

“Well hello, Klaus. You mind if I put my hand on your shoulder?”

Does he? He still can’t think, his head is pounding and his arms are shaking.

He nods, dumbly.

A cool pressure rests against him, and Klaus leans into it. 

He’s staring at the alley wall, covered in tattered posters and years of grime. The cool air brushes his face and he feels his chest begin to ease.

“There you are, that's right. You’re okay, you’re safe,”

Klaus nods. Christ that was a bad one. Came out of nowhere too, what the fuck?

“Wha- what was that shit it was-,”

“You’re alright friend. Some guy’s car backfired, round the corner. Must have caught you unawares, is all,”

Right.

Shit.

He’d thought he’d gotten ahold of all this crap. It’s been three years for fucks sake he should at least be able to see them coming. It had been bad, during those first few months in the 60s. But Klaus has learned to add to the already gargantuan pile of trauma he lugged around with him.

He’s more likely to space out than anything else. To slip away behind his eyes only for Ben to tap his shoulder and ask him “ _where he went_ ”. Because shit, there's a couple of options now. 

Ow, his head hurts.

The old man is talking to him again.

“Its okay Klaus, take your time it's alright,”

Klaus nods along, sighs then turns to face his companion.

He’s definitely an older guy, with grey hair, dark eyes and a lined face. He’s wearing a brightly coloured button-down, with blue jeans and plimsolls. Klaus can just make out a tattoo peeking out of his sleeve, and he has a wedding band on his left hand. He’s smiling, with his hand still on Klaus’ shoulder. Crouched next to him, his face is open and sincere, and Klaus can feel his concern leaking off him.

Oh yeah, he’s also dead. Klaus should have noted that first, he’s got a good feel for it these days even if there are no obvious fatal wounds to flaunt. He must be keeping him corporeal too because the guy’s hand is solid against his collar bone.

How’d he manage that? Who even is he-

“Uhh… uh sorry um… who are you? What’s your name?”

The guy smiles wider.

“The name’s Harvey, Klaus. Nice to meet you,”

He takes his hand off his shoulder and offers it.

Klaus takes it and shakes.

“You okay son? You gave me quite the scare there,”

Hah. Which one of them is the ghost, again?

“Yeah, yeah I’m … I’m fine yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean, I mean that happens sometimes I didn’t mean to pull you into it,”

Harvey raises his hands and shakes his head.

“Now don’t you worry about that. I know all about that, my friend,”

He pauses, moving to sit on the ground across from him. Harvey looks him up and down, as Klaus runs his hands through his hair, his knees brought up to his chest.

He hums and folds his hands in his lap.

“Where’d you serve?”

Heh. Klaus can’t help it. He laughs.

Harvey’s brow furrows and Klaus moves to explain.

“Sorry, sorry. That’s just uh, a lot more complicated than you think it is,”

“What makes you say that?”

Klaus sighs, resting his arms across his knees.

“Well, you wouldn’t believe me for a start,”

“I don’t know about that, friend,”

"No, really you wouldn’t,”

“Try me, son, you’re the first live ‘un I’ve had a conversation with in five years,” 

That's a point. Hey, why not.

Klaus looks him in the eye.

“‘Naam, Shau Valley, 1968,” 

A beat.

Klaus holds his gaze.

Harvey is staring.

Then he nods.

“No shit?”

He laughs and looks Klaus up and down.

“‘68 you say? 173rd?”

Klaus blinks.

“Yeah?”

“Well I’ll be damned,”

Harvey smacks him on the shoulder.

“Company D, served two years. You?”

Klaus blinks again.

“... 3rd Battalion ... 10 months,” 

Harvey smiles, showing his teeth and wrinkling around his eyes.

“Well, what are the chances?”

He sobers for a second.

“Not tryna be funny friend, you’re looking awfully good for it. My husband would love to know what kind of skincare regiment you’re on,”

Klaus laughs, combing his hair behind his ear.

“Yeah, uh well it’s a long story” 

Harvey spread his hands.

“I got nowhere to be,”

This is true.

Fuck it, might make his night.

“Oh you know, accidentally steal a time machine. Get dropped in the middle of a warzone, spat out the other end. To be honest I’ve had worst vacations,”

He hasn’t.

Harvey seems to consider this for a moment before shrugging.

“That does sound like quite a night,”

Klaus blinks.

“You believe me?”

Harvey nods. 

“Son, I died of a heart attack half a decade ago. Whatever mojo you’re pulling right now, you might as well be a time traveller too,”

Fair enough.

Klaus’ breathing has evened out a bit now and he’s taking in his surroundings. No matter what he seems to do, he always ends up in an alleyway.

Best not to focus on that right now, he needs distractions, otherwise, his heads gonna explode.

He turns to his new favourite if a little flawed, coping mechanism.

“So Harvey, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

Harvey raises his eyebrow.

“I think out of the two of us, your life story might be the more interesting, don’t you think?”

Again, he’s probably not wrong. But now is not the exact time to air all of Klaus’ dirty laundry.

“Oh, I don’t know, humour me. I’m sure you had a wild old life,” he weakly nudges with a wink.

Harvey frowns.

“Well, if you’re sure,”

Klaus is. 

Harvey was born in a little nowhere town outside the city. He was against the war, used college to avoid the draft and even attempted to play the “homo card”, as it were, to get out of conscription.

Unfortunately, he had to prove it, and Harvey made the mistake of not jumping the table and shoving his tongue down the examiner’s throat. His bad.

So he was shipped off, served two years and dumped back in the states with no family, no money and no plans. He lived on the streets a little while before he was taken in by a few GRA activists he met outside a bar and lived in, and he quotes, a “Quality Commune for Queers”, for a few years.

Eventually, he met his former closet case of a future husband, complete with an ex-wife and a ten-year-old kid, before they moved in and started a life together. Sold a few paintings, made a few friends, lived a “ _long-ass life_ ”.

“Now I’m just waiting for Marv to hurry up and kick the bucket before all the good seats in heaven are taken”

Klaus smirks. He likes Harvey. Had they met in ‘Naam, they may have hit it off. He’s not blind to the overlaps in their life stories, and his direct but gentle manner is soothing his stuttering heart by the minute.

“Yeah, of course, I got a lot of friends up there waiting for me, from the war and the crisis, whatnot. Good people, lots of good people, taken too soon. It’s not fair when God takes them young,” 

Klaus has to bite down a retort. Something along the lines of “ _she doesn’t give two shits I’m afraid_ ”

Instead, his mind is drawn back to where it was dragged a few moments ago.

Nope, bad idea. Klaus inhales, gripping his hands around the chain across his neck, letting the cool metal burn into his skin.

Harvey looks him up and down, and nods, understanding.

“You lose someone out there, kid?”

Yeah, yeah you could say that.

Something hurts, drops like a lead ball inside him.

Is it shame? Is it guilt? It’s …. grief.

Why is it always grief?

“I hate to ask but uh, can’t you… um, see them? Like you’re seeing me?”

Klaus sniffs, and shakes his head. He stares firmly at the brick wall across from him. 

“Ah, I see,”

They sit for a minute.

“What were they like, your uh, friend?”

Yeah. What was he like? It's been years, but Klaus pictures him like he saw him yesterday.

He’s smiling, with his hands on Klaus’ hips as he shakes his head at something ridiculous the latter said. Klaus can still see it all. The way his hair curled just right in the heavy heat. The little gap in his teeth. The birthmark on his left knee shaped like Peru.

Winking across to him as they marched, whispering to each other in their bunks, behind the tents, in club bathrooms.

Holding his face so gently, like he was made of glass or something else fragile and shiny and _precious_ , as he coaxes him up towards his lips.

Pulling his hair and touching him just right, just there in the bushes behind the med tent as he bit his lip to keep quiet

Making plans. Plans to get out, to start again.

No Reginald. No Uncle Brian.

No Umbrella academy. No end of the world.

Just them.

Klaus and Dave.

They’d find somewhere, back in the States. Out of town, in the country, so no one would look twice and Dave could see the stars. They’d get a dog, maybe a garden. Dave would fix up people’s houses. Klaus would … he didn’t know what he’d do really. Pottery? He used to paint as a kid.

To be honest, he didn’t care. The thought of life, any life, in the 60s with his soldier boy was enough for him.

He’d still had the briefcase then. Every night he’d feel for it under his bunk with his feet. He had no idea how it worked, where he’d get thrown if he took the plunge and opened it up again.

But some nights, when the gunfire raged and Dave murmured in his sleep, Klaus would wonder.

Maybe, if he opened it, he could take Dave with him, to the future. They could get a TV and an apartment. They could hold hands and kiss and fuck without ever looking over their shoulder.

Where Dave could be his, all his, without the world even batting an eyelid. 

It sounded nice. Dave would like 2019. He’d like the movies, the music, 24hr Mcdonalds. Klaus would sometimes picture them, walking hand in hand like the sops they were, doing all the cutesy shit that couples could do up and down the streets where he’d wandered in his twenties. Not alone, not surrounded by the dead, but with Dave. With someone living, solid and _real_ to call his own. 

But then he’d have to explain.

Not to Dave. He knew it all, the ghosts, the academy, the time travel. He’d seen him arrive, covered in blood, sweat and a towel, he’d known Klaus’s “ _escaped POW_ ” story was utter pigshit.

When he’d asked him, the first night they’d kissed, Klaus couldn’t bring himself to lie. Dave saw him, all of him, and the mask he’d so readily made for himself and worn his whole life slipped away with ease.

He’d believed him too. At least, he hadn’t left, hadn’t called him a liar. If he really grasped it all, Klaus would never know.

No, Dave wasn’t the issue here. It was everyone else. 

He loved his siblings, at least in theory, and he felt the empty space where Ben should have been like an ache. He often turned to the side to give his ever-present brother a knowing _look_ to find himself alone. After so many years of having a fraternal angel at his shoulder, it took getting used to.

But he knew where they were, he’d bet they hadn’t even noticed he’d gone. Maybe Ben would wonder what happened. He was probably still sitting on that bus, wondering where the fuck his brother has got to this time.

But to be honest it must be a relief to not have to babysit him for a while.

Back then, the thought of never seeing his ghostly sibling again was distant. Ben was still there, waiting for him in the future. Maybe, if Klaus did something crazy like quit smoking or the drink (ha!) he’d live long enough to see him again.

This life, with Dave, in the distant past? Well, it was a chance to start over. No history to catch up to him, a warm hand to hold and a future that didn’t have to end in a dirty side street.

Hah.

Right now, it felt ... empty... to think about how earnestly he’d wanted that. How close it felt, how real it almost could have been. Klaus lost it all. It had quite literally bled out in his arms, three years ago.

When he’d thought about it, lying in the back of his hippie bus in 1961, he’d known any chance he’d had at that quaint, ordinary, perfect little life was gone.

Instead, he’d focused on option B.

He and Ben were stuck. He’d gone straight into survival mode in 1960, nodding and taking whatever chances he’d got to get off the street and into the lap of whichever option first took him. He’d somehow got himself a cult, sorry, _alternative spiritual community_ , after showing off a few party tricks for some rich old white folks. He’s had worse gigs.

He was coasting, absently holding out for whenever Five or any other siblings rocked up to come to come to fetch him, that is if they were still alive. Ben encouraged him to stay positive.

Klaus was drifting and yeah, this hippie guru leader thing was definitely getting out of hand. But even his brother had to admit this was better than his previous living arrangements in 2019. 

And secretly, in the dead of night when his groupies were asleep and he and Ben had sat alone on the bus rooftop, he’d realised something. An idea that, despite the more regressed, logical parts of his brain whispering firmly against it, he couldn’t pass up.

He was stranded, stuck in another time yet again, but it was an opportunity.

A perfect, ridiculous, _fucking stupid_ opportunity.

He wasn’t sure when he’d first grasped that Dave, his Dave, was still alive out there. He would be barely a kid, and he’d have no idea who the hell Klaus even was. Fuck, he didn’t even know other people like him, like Klaus, existed.

But he was still here.

If Klaus talked to him, somehow got through to him, Dave would never end up on that hill in ‘Naam.

He could save him.

He’d live. 

_He’d live_

It drove his every move. Pushed him through every touch, every question, every suffocating moment those final months in the cult had given. He gripped it tight when the world got too loud; either from the ghosts that his newfound sobriety drew towards him or the constant noise that his stupid brain couldn’t seem to differentiate between bus tires popping or raging gunfire..

He could get through it, push through the fog of the past, for him. For his Dave.

Klaus knew that, if he did this right, he’d never see him again. If Dave didn’t enlist, he’d never meet Klaus. Never recognise him for anyone other than that weird hippie guy who accosted him to not sign up all those years ago. He’d give him up, lose him forever, sacrifice one of the few good things his powers could ever offer up. The chance to see him, tell him he loves him.

That he’s sorry.

But he didn’t care. It was worth it. Anything was worth it if Dave could live.

Besides, the last time he’d summoned a ghost, he’d trapped him here forever.

Klaus and Ben were growing more fractured every day, and Klaus never lost the overwhelming guilt of holding Ben back from his chance at freedom, at peace, forever. He loved his brother, knew he should be more grateful he’d had him there, at his side. But he couldn’t bear to keep Dave back from the light that he, of all people, deserved. 

But that didn’t matter now, because he’d failed.

Like everything he did, Klaus just made it worse. He poisons everything he touches, breaks everything precious he holds.

Useless.

So _fucking useless_.

Harvey stares at him, expectantly.

He’d asked him a question.

Right uh-

“He was … his name was Dave. He was the first guy I saw when I, uh, landed,”

Klaus feels his throat burn.

“He liked to play guitar, and Frank Herbert and would fry everything he ate if he could. He-,”

Fuck, stop crying.

“He was beautiful and kind and strong and he-,”

Klaus takes in a watery breath.

“He was a damn good ride,”

Harvey laughs at that, but his hand is back on Klaus’ shoulder, gnarled fingers rubbing circles on Klaus’ arm.

He ponders something for a second, looking Klaus up and down, then in the eye, and nods.

“My friend, Robbie, he shared a bunk with me for six months. Short lad, barely twenty-one, most gorgeous brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Terrified of bats, he was, would shit himself if one ever found its way in the tent”

Yeah, Klaus knew the feeling. Those little bastards got everywhere.

“He was the first I ever took to bed. Knew where I stood before then, of course, but Robbie took my flower good and proper,”

“He liked Jazz music, his daddy was a double bass player you see, and would hum to himself every night before we went to bed,”

“I waved him off on patrol one morning, and he never came back,”

Klaus looks over.

“I’m sorry,”

Harvey waves his hand.

“I didn’t see what happened, but I swear, I never could listen to Jazz again. I loved it before, but every time I could just see his face, see his body I-,”

He pauses, gathering a moment.

“War is hell, Son. You can’t leave it all behind, some of it wants to stick with you,”

Isn’t that the truth.

“Does it-,”

Klaus pauses, but Harvey nods.

“Does it get easier? All this shit I - I don’t even know where to start its-,”

He shrugs.

“It’s just so much, every time I think I’ve got a handle on it it just-,”

He waves his hands.

Harvey ponders a second.

“It never goes away. I’m not going to lie to you, Klaus”

He holds his shoulder firm.

“But it does get easier”

Harvey sighs again. He really looks as old as he is, but he feels solid and stable and Klaus can’t help but lean into every word he says.

“When I first got back, it was … it was bad I’ll tell you. But those guys? The ones who took me in? Shit, without them god knows what would have happened to me,”

“I needed people, other living people to keep me grounded, keep me living,”

Harvey looks at him, straight in the eye.

“You got yourself some of that?”

Does he? He has to think for a second.

“Kind of? I’ve got a pretty extensive family if I’m honest. One of Seven actually,”

Harvey whistles.

“Yeah but uh, we’re not close. Well, we’ve got closer because of ... things but I’m uh-,”

How should he phrase this without sounding like a right self-pitying asshole?

“- I don’t really fit into that, very well-,”

He pauses, then adds.

“Me and one brother, Ben, we were sort of close? But it’s kind of… it’s complicated,” 

He sighs. 

“Besides, he’s gone now, moved on,”

If Harvey wonders why Klaus can’t speak to Ben either, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he scratches his head.

“So this family of yours, they really not close to you? Don’t know where you’ve been?”

“Umm,”

Do they? Klaus hasn’t exactly been hiding it. Five definitely knows. He mentioned Dave off-hand to Allison and Vanya. But he hasn’t exactly been forthright about his deal.

Ben knew.

Not much help to him now though, is it?

“Not uh really no. Heh, they have bigger shit to fry than my endless freak show,”

Klaus laughs, but there's no humour to him. Harvey frowns.

“Well if that’s true they sound like they’re up their own asses if you ask me,”

Klaus smirks, for real this time.

“But if they don’t know, you gotta tell them. I imagine they’re all as weird as you, but I don’t reckon they’re mind readers,”

Hmm.

Klaus thinks about this. He’s never really hidden all his shit. On the contrary, he’s the most likely to laugh it up, make a joke, use it to lighten the tension. But he knows it's all an act, and maybe, just maybe, his antics have been a teeny, tiny, so far unheard cry for help.

But hey. What does he know? 

His siblings all have their own problems, their own _dad/ powers/time travel_ related traumas to deal with. They have the bigger picture to focus on, and Klaus has never, and will never, be part of that bigger picture.

Harvey is still talking.

“You need other people, my friend. If there's one thing I learned, you have to share the load. Carry it forward, make your own life, even if it's from scratch,”

He’s right. It's so simple, so obvious to hear it out loud. He’s heard it a million times before too.

How many times did he roll his eyes as Ben whispered “ _Just call Diego and get him to pick you up_ ” or “ _Vanya is round the corner, forget her damn book it's too cold out here_ ” or once “ _Dad’s out of town and even Luther wouldn’t turn you away come on-_ ”

He’d given in sometimes too, asked Diego his couch or Vanya for her bathroom and once, just once, Luther for his, sorry _Dad’s_ , cash.

But why is it so hard?

Well, he knows why.

Years of rejection does that to you. He knows his eternal status as the family disappointment, and besides, it's not like his siblings want much to with him any-

_Wait._

A voice that doesn’t sound like his own raises its hand. 

_That’s not true though is it._

And another unfamiliar part can’t help but tentatively agree. 

Yeah, Fives has been an asshole recently

Also yeah, his family are a little busy saving the world right now to pay attention to something so trivial as _feelings_.

But he thinks about Diego, waiting for him in the main room till the sun came up, motioning for him to eat with a grunt and a concerned glance.

He thinks about Allison, jumping in his pool because she just couldn’t wait a few more seconds to throw her arms around him. Then later at her place, getting drunk together on her kitchen floor, crying about men and the apocalypse and everything else.

He thinks about both his sisters, laughing and dancing like they haven’t in years, maybe ever, around an empty salon, forgetting about their fucked up lives for just a minute. 

He thinks about a cramped car ride to the snow, and that brief moment of relief when they all thought they'd all, well almost all, made it back home alive. 

“I’ll try,”

He didn’t expect himself to speak.

He turns to Harvey, who is smiling a little.

“Yeah?”

Yeah.

“I will I - I don’t know how but I’ll try,”

Harvey nods, his lined eyes crinkling with his approval, and maybe a little bit of pride.

“Good, good. It’s worth it kid, I tell ya,”

Klaus smiles, then looks his new friend up and down.

“Thank you, for finding me I mean. I don’t know what the chances were of you being round here but-,”

“Oh no, I lived on the other side of the city,”

Sorry, what?

“Wait, then why did you-?”

Harvey’s brow furrows like it's obvious.

“I was just minding my own business, just watching my Marv make his dinner, when, well I don’t know I felt this pull, I felt well, you?”

Huh.

“Wait really?”

“Yeah, next thing I know, I’m right here and I find you freaking out,”

Whoops.

How did Klaus manage that?

His powers act out when he’s emotional, he knows that now. Maybe, in his panic, he what? Put out a distress call?

What did that even sound like? Some kind of spectral Craigslist ad calling for fellow former homeless, queer ‘Naam veterans in the tri-state area.

Catchy. One day he’ll know how his stupid powers work.

He shakes his head, then reaches out to Harvey’s hand.

“Well, thanks anyway. I’m sure you have better things to do than become my therapist/ life coach,”

“As I said, I’m dead, son. Not got much else going on. Happy to help, besides-,”

He smiles fondly.

“It’s always nice to meet a like-minded, uh, spirit,”

Klaus laughs and moves to stand up on shaky legs.

He’s not sure how to end this little encounter. Normally by now Klaus would be waving off his new pal into the ghostly beyond and making his merry way home.

But Harvey’s not going anywhere. Short of bumping off his husband, there's not a lot Klaus can do to help him pass on.

But it's getting late, his plans for an early night firmly scarpered. So instead he holds out his hand in a semi-awkward fashion.

Harvey shakes his head and pulls him into a hug. He’s cold, and Harvey is definitely dead, but Klaus feels something in his throat choke a little as the shorter man wraps his arms tight about his middle.

His new friend pulls back and slaps his arm.

“Well, if you need anything, Klaus, give me a ring, alright?”

Klaus nods, strangely sincere.

“Damn right I will. Thanks for uh, everything,”

Harvey smiles. 

“No problem, you take care now,”

Klaus waves [GOODBYE], and Harvey phases out of view. 

Well, that was an eventful evening. If Klaus wasn’t ready for sleep two hours ago, he definitely was now. Poor Diego will be wondering where he got to. 

Klaus snorts.

He goes to turn down the alleyway to put his brother out of his misery when a shadow falls across him. At first, Klaus thinks it's Harvey again, back for whatever reason, but he squints to make out their shape.

It's a man, kind of short, dressed in a red blazer, with his hands hanging loosely at his sides.

Wait hang on that looks like-

He steps closer.

Oh shit. Oh sHIT SHIT SHIT _THAT'S-_

There's someone next to him. She has dark hair, tied up in a high ponytail, wearing the same red uniform as the figure, the man, _the ghost_ , next to her.

He speaks, calm but firm, in a voice so achingly familiar.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,”

Fuck that noise.

Klaus turns behind him and oh shit there's another woman too. Blonde, with mismatched eyes and a face splattered with freckles. She’s standing halfway through a wall, but Klaus knows immediately that she is not dead.

He ducks instinctively.

She goes to grab his collar but misses, and every nerve that had set alight earlier that evening kicks into action. He throws his hands out, trying to bat her off, but she's strong and Klaus has always been a lover, not a fighter.

He gets a fist across her face though and she staggers back, but he has no time to celebrate his victory.

A hand comes up behind him, resting gently on his neck, and suddenly Klaus is _so, so very tired_

The world begins to spin, and something warm and sharp spreads down his spine.

As the world turns black, the last thing Klaus sees is his dead brother’s face peering curiously down at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... whoops ;) 
> 
> Guess its plot time guys, hope you're ready!
> 
> For anyone interested, I based Harvey's back story off a few sources, but the main ones are taken from actual testimonies and biographies of real queer Vietnam veterans. The main ones being Leonard Matlovitch and Harry Haines (the latter tells the 'not snogging the medical examiner story' - well worth a google if you're interested). 
> 
> I'm a bit of a history buff and it was so interesting reading about the Vietnam war and its aftermath for this, as it's a little outside my comfort zone. I can highly recommend looking into it if you're interested. 
> 
> Thanks again for all your lovely comments, they keep me writing (even if I should be doing uni assignments - never mind xD) 
> 
> Hopefully should have the next chapter up soon :)


	6. Through the Looking Glass

Klaus’ head hurts. 

His mouth feels like he’s licked a garbage can, and his nose wrinkles as his eyes adjust to sudden piercing light. He unclenches his jaw with a whine. 

Urgh, whatever he took, he’s not doing that again. The comedown does not agree with him, no sir.

Wait. 

That’s not right. 

He’s sober, been sober for a while now actually. Klaus rolls his neck as he tries to clear the stubborn fog in his brain. 

If he’s clean then why-?

Klaus groans and goes scrub his face but is immediately met with resistance.

He’s tied up, strapped to a … let’s guess a chair? Something hard and cold that presses sharply into his back anyway. A quick mental scan finds that his legs are strapped up too, and there’s also something across his lap. 

So either his latest conquest is into the good shit or-

There’s a muffled knock.

Huh?

Klaus blinks, trying to clear the haze from his vision. He swivels his head, wincing as his neck twists with a loud _crunch_.

He’s in a room. It’s small, barely more than a glorified closet, with grey concrete walls enclosing him from every angle. A single lamp hangs from the ceiling, with its bright bulb grating into Klaus’ rapidly strengthening headache.

When he cranes his neck up, he’s met with a very serious looking front door, more akin to a safe than anything else, with a dirty round porthole in the centre. 

_Oh actually that’s a little too enclosed thanks_ , he thinks as he strains to see out of the hatch. Klaus’ heart does not like this one bit. 

He can’t move, his thoughts are scattered, and the very solid, very high walls seem to inch in closer and closer. 

Okay, breathe. It’s a little too early to have a panic attack. 

He shudders through a gasp, staring straight ahead when he’s struck by something else.

It’s not just the general list of high walls, cramped space that he _can’t get out of_ that he recognises. That door rings a bell. Where had he-?

Before he can ponder his surroundings further, the hinges shudder with a _clunk_.

The door swings open with a whine, and a figure looms in the entrance. The corridor light shines behind them, and Klaus strains to see who his visitor might be. 

“You know, you talk in your sleep,”

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Klaus doesn’t need to look up, but he does on instinct. 

Oh dear. 

Nothing twists, nothing tugs, nothing snaps. 

But something drops. 

Klaus stares. 

The man, who is not Ben, stares back. 

His expression is cold and blank, as he examines his captive with detached interest. The Sparrow looks him up and down, frowns, then turns behind him. 

“What dosage did you give him?”

A woman’s voice echoes off the solid walls. 

“Full strength, one beat off fatal. No way should he be awake yet,”

“Hmm, impressive,”

He turns back, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You must be tougher than you look,”

Klaus says nothing. The other man turns around again, nods, and steps forward. The door shuts behind him and _holy shit that’s a lot of ghosts_. 

They’re the vintage flavour: loud, gruesome and _everywhere_. There’s an assortment of missing arms, caved in faces and bloody holes. They reach out to grab and scratch, hanging off the other man like a gang of morbid groupies. 

“why why-why-why did you please it _hurts it hurts please god I’ll gET YOU I’LL GET YOU WHY,_ ”

Klaus struggles to breathe. 

Oh no, this will not do at all. They’re not like the ones he’s come to befriend the last few months. He can feel their anger, their rage, their confusion. These guys have no idea what they want, except for something, someone to _hurt_. 

If this wasn’t familiar before, by fuck it is now. 

No no no no _no_.

Okay. Okay shit. He has to relax, he has to relax, oh _shit_.

The last thing he needs is a major freak out in front of this asshole. His powers are flighty at best, and he really shouldn’t do any unintentional summoning if he can help it. 

Klaus bites his lip and forces himself to look the other man in the eye. 

Not-Ben definitely clocks his unease, but not its source. 

His smirk becomes a full-on smile, and he stands to attention about a foot away from Klaus’ seat with his hands to his sides. 

“You can relax. I’m not going to do anything. We’re just going to talk,”

It’s not Ben. Klaus knows that. He wasn’t lying before when he said he can feel it in his gut. In his soul, even. 

But his head is spinning, he’s panicking just a little, and fuck he sounds just like his brother. 

His voice has the same, smooth, self-assured quality. That silhouette has been a familiar shape in Klaus’ vision for almost his whole life. His face, despite being half-hidden in shadow and even with the caterpillar draped across his mouth and the scar scratched across his cheek, is so familiar, so known to him. Klaus doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. 

This is cruel. This is wrong and twisted and _so unfair_. 

But fuck he’s missed that face. 

It’s a terrible idea, but Klaus decides to cling to it. Fixate on it with every fibre he can muster. 

Because he knows that there’s no better cure for ghost overload than focusing on Ben. And if you can’t get the original flavour, dollar store knock off is fine. 

So Klaus sucks in a breath, clenches his fists and plasters on his best grin. 

“Well I am glad to hear it because I have to say, your room service is sub-par at best,”

He gives the room a theatrical sweep with his eyes. 

“I hope you don’t give all your guests this treatment because I have a few complaints and quite frankly-,”

He looks back. 

“- I’d like to have a word with your manager,”

Not-Ben shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Oof. No actually. Please don’t do that.

“Well I’m afraid our uh, manager, is unavailable at the moment. But I can assure you that I am just as able to take any of your queries,”

Klaus shuts his eyes and tries to roll his shoulders. He wasn’t expecting quite a serious response but hey.

Hang on, that means something, actually. The great Sir Reginald isn’t around. That’s a relief. He’s not sure his brain could take it after all the other parallels it’s drawing inside this cramped, cold and ghost-ridden room. Thank fuck. 

“Aw, what a shame. I oh so love family reunions,”

That’s not true. He could have very much done without this particular one. But now his head is clearing, and his thoughts are starting to string together. He’s suddenly struck by the full gravity of his situation.

“Wait, hang on. Hang on hang on. If Reggie’s not coming down to say hi, what am I doing here? Why’d he send a lackey? Actually, hang on, let’s back up a bit. Why am I here in the first place? And what is here, actually?”

Not-Ben clenched his jaw. Oh yeah, that’s a very familiar expression right there. It actually somehow starts to ease Klaus a little. There’s nothing he knows better than that face.

“You’re here because you have some information, information that Hargreeves has trusted his Number One,“ he pauses there for emphasis, “to extract while he deals with more important business,”

Interesting. How novel, to hear such a Luther-ish sentence from his other brother’s lips. 

Putting that aside a sec, Klaus can’t help but laugh. Not when this whole situation is a huge joke. He may have been in the room while his family plotted and bickered, sure, but he was hardly paying any attention. Yet again, he finds himself kidnapped for intel on his more competent siblings that he simply did not have. 

He could write a manual on this, should he weasel his way out.

Unlike his last escapade, he has a funny feeling that revealing he knows absolutely nothing wouldn’t do so well this time. So he decides to play hard to get.

“So that’s it huh. Do you need all the hot gossip? Well I don’t know, I’ve never been one to kiss and tell,” 

That’s true actually. It took the threat of sobriety to get anything out of him last time he was strapped to a chair, despite hours of all the hardcore shit. And he’s been inflicting that particular shade of torture on himself for months now.

Not-Ben doesn’t seem concerned by his admission.

“We’ll see,”

He’s eyeing him up again. Klaus can’t help but feel like he’s on a Petri dish or even a chopping board. He can’t see any stretching racks or thumbscrews lying around, but he knows better than to assume he’s not at risk here. Sure, this guy says he’s not gonna damage him, but Klaus knows the effect he has on people. 

Despite this, Klaus still doesn’t do well in silence, so he decides his usual tactic of verbal diarrhoea is the best tool he has.

“I have to say, I’m loving the whole vibe you’ll have going, though I don’t think red is your colour, you know? Very super-villainy, or maybe I’m just a bit bias, seeing my uh, position and all,”

No response. Fine, Klaus can keep going. 

“So what’s the evil plan? You stumble on me while I’m out and about, tie me up in what I’m assuming is your basement and what, torture me? Because not gonna lie to you, you might need to pull up your own chair buddy cos I’ve been told I’m a pretty tough nut to crack,”

At this, Not-Ben laughs. Now Klaus knows he’s hilarious, but he suppresses a shiver. 

“You think we stumbled on you? No, Number Four, we’ve had you in our sight for some time,” 

Well, that’s ominous. 

a) How does he know his name-fuck-number? He’s pretty sure they didn’t reveal that in the 60s Tiki bar.

b) What the hell does he mean “in our sight for some time?” 

Klaus swallows. 

“Come again?”

Not-Ben raises an eyebrow. 

“It’s not like you’ve been very subtle. Going out by yourself into the early hours every night, back at varying times and not telling anyone where you went? It’s like you’re asking to get kidnapped,”

Hey now. 

“Well that’s just creepy, don’t you know it’s considered rude to stalk these days?”

Not-Ben ignores this and continues. 

“No, we’ve been watching you for a while. Elle and Dominica have kept close tabs on you and your … activities,”

Now Klaus has no idea who those two lovely ladies might be, he assumes some more of their replacement super kids, but the thought of them following him is just a tad unnerving. He’s never been the most attached to reality. Doing his new medium gig has done nothing to help that. Even talking to one ghost takes up a lot of his focus, and he’s rarely without a small entourage when he goes out. Even if he tunes them out, there's a reason why he's almost walked into a few lamp posts or straight into traffic on his escapades. 

He could have someone right behind him and he’d be none the wiser. 

Whoops. 

He has no idea what ‘for a while’ meant, but these guys could have taken him anytime he went wandering so...

“Just out of academic interest, if you’ve been following me for so long, what made you lovely lot jump my bones now? I mean, it’s a wonder you could resist me so long, but still-,”

He finishes with a wink, but swallows. 

Not-Ben shrugs.

“Hargreeves wanted to be sure we took you while you were … unaccompanied. Besides, it’s become pressing for us to confirm your family’s plans, and what they’re capable of,” 

Right, a lot to unpack here. 

What the hell did he mean by unaccompanied? And surely they wouldn’t wait to figure out what the hell his family was up to, especially if they’ve been watching Klaus stumble around the city talking to himself the last few months. 

Klaus shrugs, attempting to spread his palms behind his back. 

“Well, you took your time. My midnight walks have always been a solo affair, the rest of the fam aren’t interested in seeing the city sights if you will,”

“We both know that’s not what I mean,”

It’s not? What could he - 

Oh yeah. The ghosts. 

Not-Ben goes on. 

“Your talents aren’t as obvious as the rest of your family. However, we had to be sure they wouldn’t … pose an issue, once we identified you as the weakest link,” 

Okay, rude. Makes sense though. Klaus knows what his powers look like to the rest of the world. Acting like a lunatic is par for the course. But being able to pierce the veil may sound a lot more impressive to the uninitiated than it was for Klaus in practice. If you asked him, his powers were more ‘spiritual tour guide’ than ‘formidable super foe’. 

This Reggie may not have a comprehensive list of torture notes like he did the first time, but Five told him what he could do in the 60s. Makes sense he’d want to scope him out before he moved. It’s not like he made the best impression back at the bar either. In his defence, he was very drunk at the time, and Ben was being an ass, so his brief contribution to that freak show didn’t exactly answer any questions about what “communing with the dead” actually meant. 

So daddy had told his super freaks to hold back till they clocked his deal, fine. They waited till they knew his new BFF Harvey was gone and moved in, sure. But -

“Sorry, what do you mean by ‘pressing’? If you could have jumped my ass at any time, why wait till now? What changed father dearest’s mind, because, quite frankly, I’d love to have it on tap?”

Not-Ben stepped forward, his brow furrowed and his eyes focused. 

“Please don’t play dumb. You know what your Number Five has been doing,”

Does he? As far as he knows, Five has done nothing but draw on the walls and drink enough caffeine to give himself more palpitations than deep breaths since they got here. 

Not-Ben shakes his head. 

“He’s been trying to play with time, to make it bend back to his will. He wants to fix it, use that to help you all escape. He’s getting close, Hargreeves has seen it, and it would be … inconvenient if he were to go any further,”

Klaus blinks. 

Yeah, that’s right actually. He had no idea his brother was getting close, heck does Five even know that? But wait-

“How do you know that though? It’s not like we’ve been holding public senate meetings or anything, how did you-,”

Not-Ben smiles. 

Oh shit.

They know.

They know where they are. They’ve known this _whole time_.

But how-?

Before he asks, Other-Ben shrugs. 

“Dominica has certain ways of getting around, and you really should be more careful who you choose to rent from in this city, he's a bit of a talker,” 

Shit.

Shit shit shit. 

They thought they’d stayed under the radar. But goddammit they stayed in the city, that was so fucking stupid. Why didn’t they run to Yemen like sensible people oh no, oh fUCK. 

Christine did say their landlord was shifty. 

Not-Ben continues. 

“We’ve kept our distance, but now we lack certain key details in your plan that Hargreeves deems essential. The complexities of each of your powers, where you intend to go etcetera. A more direct approach is necessary should we want to make our … extermination as efficient as possible” 

Klaus barely hears him. They’re all there right now. They’ve all been eating and bonding and shitting with these guys on their tail this whole time. Even Five, the paranoid bastard, and Luther and Diego who’d booby-trapped the place within an inch of its life, have no idea. 

This is bad, this is bad they have to know and move out ASAP- 

Wait. 

Extermination. 

But hang on-? 

“Surely that’s good for you guys though? If we leave, we’re out of your hair. No pesky Umbrellas for Dad, you guys carry on doing the grown-up superhero thing, we all go home for tea and crumpets. What’s the problem?”

Not-Ben rolls his eyes, his patience clearly running thin. Yep, that’s definitely a familiar one.

“If he succeeds, your brother will bring down all this, all of Father’s work for the last sixty years. You want to erase us, replace us, undo everything we’ve done to save the world,” 

Sorry, what?

“Yeah sorry, still not following you,”

He steps even closer, his face mere inches from Klaus’ nose. He grits his teeth, and Klaus can just make out a small white slit above his eyebrow. 

Huh, that had been Diego’s fault the first time around. 

Still getting used to his control during training, he’d missed his target by inches and Ben’s skull by millimetres. No harm was done, but Ben had been left with the battle scar ever since, and Number Two never forgave himself for missing.

Klaus wonders how it had happened here. 

Not-Ben inhales. 

“It’s very simple. If we let you leave, then you’ll go back to whatever godforsaken timeline that spat you out. That means this world, this better world, never exists, and you screw-ups get to bring about _the end of days_ ,”

He leans back, apparently steadying himself with a breath. 

Ben used to do that too, whenever the horrors-

Oh god, yeah. Funny how Klaus had forgotten about them. 

Maybe it’s best not to poke too much at his methods. 

“You understand that we can’t let that happen,” 

Sure, maybe Klaus could. 

“I mean I guess, but we don’t want any trouble. It’s nothing personal, I mean, to be honest, I’ve never been happier to be unadopted,”

He’s not lying. If he had to stay in this timeline, it wouldn't change much for him. He has nothing waiting for him in the first 2019, apart from a back alley overdose. But it's not just him trying to get back, is it? Allison has her daughter to see, and the rest of them want a place to start again without having to watch their back every second. 

If nothing else, Five deserves a nap in peace.

“We’re just trying to get back home, you know. We’ve got people to see, things to do. We don’t wanna fight you or anything, we’ve had far too much of that shit,”

 _"-and I really don’t want to go against someone wearing my dead brother’s face,"_ Klaus thinks to himself.

Not-Ben shakes his head. 

“Father won’t take that chance,”

Klaus sighs.

“Yeah well he always was a paranoid bastard,”

Not-Ben doesn’t reply, but he uncurls and re-tightens his fist whilst shifting his weight. Interesting. 

Klaus files that reaction away for later. He’s kept this asshole talking a while now, let’s see how long that lasts. 

“So what, you kidnap me, you tell me your plan, now what? Cos I’m not saying shit dude, and if you’re not breaking out the nipple clamps and daddy’s not coming for a visit, I’d love to know why you’re down here? Do you like to play with your food?”

The man smiles. But it’s not warm, or sarcastic, or kind. 

_It’s not Ben, not him, it’s not Ben._

“I wanted to see you for myself,” 

Huh. Okay. 

“ Uh … not that I’m not flattered or nothing, but do you mind telling me why? I know I’m the sexy one and all, but to be honest it’s kind of weird for me that you’d feel like that you see-,“

Klaus does not like the way the other man grins wider.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. We all have, growing up. Father always prepared us for the day his failures arrived,”

Not-Ben is pacing now, his hands clasped behind him as he circles around Klaus’ chair.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you. The first batch, the rejects. The trial run Hargreeves never even had to carry out himself,"

Klaus struggles not to follow his circle. He keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the cell door as the other man talks, his morbid entourage following each step with a wail. 

“I should really thank you, all of us should, for making sure our lives are so … efficient," 

"I found your life stories, what little you shared with Hargreeves, hard to believe at first. But Father never lies, so it must be true,”

He pauses behind him. 

“I almost feel sorry for you,” 

Klaus digs his teeth into his lip. 

“A whole set of disasters, all of you. A disfigured giant, an amnesiac time bomb, a bickering hypnotist, a delusional vigilante, an adult trapped in a teenager's body and a hippie drunkard”

He leans in. 

“Father was quite specific-," 

He smiles. 

"- and characteristically astute,”

Ouch, tell us what you really think Dad. 

“Twenty minutes with you, and he decides to start over. I think, all things considered, he made an improvement,”

He breathes right into Klaus’ ear. 

“I guess every failed experiment is a step in the right direction,”

God this guy is an asshole. He hasn’t pushed any real buttons, not yet. Klaus has always known his father would drop him the minute he had the chance, comes with being his ‘greatest disappointment’ and whatnot. Out of all of this BS, it’s been the least of his worries. Sure, he has plenty of other bones to pick with the asshole, and enough daddy related trauma to keep a shrink fed for decades. This whole thing is small fry compared to what Sir Reginald Hargreeves has to answer for, in Klaus’ opinion.

But still, this guy is getting close just by looking the way he does. With every expression, every word he speaks, he’s prodding and poking at places that are raw and open. Klaus really does not want to deal with this shit right now. 

He was going to get an early night goddammit. 

He can’t let this guy get at him, not if he wants to keep his sibling's secrets safe, what little of them he has. Not if he wants to play the long game.

He can’t hold out much hope of a rescue mission. Sure, Diego’s recent night watch might mean he notices Klaus is back late, but even then his family hasn’t got a good track record at clocking when Number Four is declared absent. 

Who's he kidding, Diego probably wasn’t even waiting up for him in the first place. Klaus could have been reading him totally wrong, and it turns out his brothers just an insomniac like everyone else in this family. Maybe just happened to be awake the past few nights, and has gone back to sleeping soundly without a Klaus-related care in the world.

Klaus has to get out of this himself. 

How? Fuck knows.

But he has to play for time. He has to figure out what makes this other-Ben tick. He has to push right back. 

Oh, fuck this is a bad idea. 

This Ben might be above torture now, but it seems this version of his usually snarky but sweet brother is Dad’s right hand through and through. Klaus gets the sense he wouldn’t want to disappoint the big man upstairs, not at any cost. 

There’s also the problem of the gigantic tentacle portal in his stomach. Klaus never had to worry before, confident that Ben would never hurt him, and as such never had any reason to be afraid. It’s sort of why they got on as kids.

He’s less confident with this Ben. Looking at the array of moaning victims crowding around him, Klaus does not want to be on the receiving end of this version of the Horror. 

So what’s he gonna do? 

The answer comes to him easily. Surprisingly easy actually.

Klaus might be a genius.

Sure, this Ben is different. He’s cold, distant, a real manipulative asshole. 

But some things stay the same, and judging by the small file he’s been curating since this doppelganger walked in the room, there’s plenty of familiar ammunition to work with.

So Klaus breathes, rolls his shoulders, and paints that lazy grin straight back on. 

“I don’t know, is having seven thirty-somethings still living at home on daddy’s payroll really an improvement?”

He shrugs, turning his head to the side towards his companion

“I mean, you’re not wrong, we’re all a bunch of walking train wrecks. But Christ, at least we’re not still living under our dad's roof,”

He feels the other Ben stiffen.

“I mean shit, I’d rather go dumpster diving than spend another second under that sick bastard's roof, and you know what, I did!”

Klaus is on a roll. 

“Shit, you’re even still wearing the damn uniforms? I’d say it's kinky, but you guys seriously go out and fight crime in blazers and ties? You can’t even step out of line a few centimetres to ask for a damned pair of jeans!”

Other-Ben hasn’t moved from his spot, and Klaus feels his hands come onto the back of his chair. 

Bingo. 

Not-Ben’s voice is level, perfectly pleasant. But Klaus recognises a previously rare hard edge. 

“We have a duty. To each other, to our Father, to the world. We can’t abandon it,”

Oof, yeah that’s the Luther effect right there. Man is Klaus glad that the 60s shook that out of their Number One.

However, something in his voice makes him not sound so sure, and Klaus takes that as a signal to press further.

“Seriously? You're really saying none of you lot wanted to leave? You were all happy to stay here with Señor stick-up-his-ass to serve his higher cause, even as grown-ass adults?”

“You never wanted to, I don’t know - meet someone? Get a normal person job? See the city when it’s not being burgled or has a cat stuck up a tree or something?”

He cranes his neck the other way, straining to meet his captor’s eye.

A beat of silence.

Fascinating. 

The hands against his back tighten.

“We’re not weak like you. We keep our eyes on the prize, learning the lessons Hargreeves gave us. We don’t get to want anything else, to have anything else. We are above it,”

Christ. Reginald is a bastard. You’d think the lesson he’d learn from their visit would be ' _hug your children sometimes_ ' and not ' _apply more emotional repression_ '.

This guy’s an ass. He’s wearing Ben’s face and striding around in his body like it's nothing. He wants to kill his entire family. Klaus won’t lose any sleep at punching where it hurts. 

But he was like them.

He was just a kid, once. 

Sure, they’re all grown-ups now, both Sparrows and Umbrellas. They have to deal with their own problems. 

But damn. He can’t help but think that this Ben, the one standing in front of him, might not have been so different once upon a time. Looking at his face now, Klaus wonders if he wasn’t always so cold, so calculating, so keen to stick a pin where it hurt. 

His Ben could be an asshole sure, Klaus knows it very well. But he was smart, unendingly loyal, and stunningly intuitive. Maybe this time around, all those squishy parts of their Number Six had more time to be beaten back, to be frozen into the Number One that stands in front of him. 

Shit Reginald. They were just little kids.

Klaus can’t dwell on it now, he’s getting somewhere.

He’s not sure what his plan is. Piss him off so he leaves? Pray to God he won’t release the eldritch nightmare in his stomach as he does so? He seems more in control than his Ben did, Klaus has a funny feeling this new rod up his ass speaks a lot for it. Hopefully, his word vomit has a higher limit before he joins the angry monster mash around him. 

All he knows is Klaus is in control. He might be tied to the chair, but something is slipping in his favour.

He prods further. 

“I mean, after all that he’s done to you? I mean, he treated us like lab rats from minute one, but shit if that’s how he treated failures who had the balls to leave, what did he do to you? You can seriously believe that was all for the greater good,”

He’s going out on a limb here. For all he knows, Reggie could have held tea parties and trips to the beach for his second try at parenthood. Maybe they had guitar circles and braided each other's hair.

But Klaus thinks not. He remembers Ben’s special training. None of them ever spoke about it, Klaus knows damn well he never said a word, but he knew what they each were all like after Dad dragged them off for father-child bonding time. 

Luther collapsed face down in his bedroom. Diego with his bleeding fingers and myriad of scars. Allison with her fractured voice and Five with his jumpy nerves and fried brain.

Ben, with blood under his nails and tears down his face. 

He still never knew what he did, just like Ben only guessed where Klaus was sent for his sessions, based on whispered pleading and mumbled admissions as he slept or came down on the sidewalk. 

All Klaus knew was that he’d often wake to find little Number Six in his room, his hands shaky and voice quiet as he asked if he could read to him tonight, some brightly coloured book with lots of pictures held in his hands. Klaus would nod, saying something like “hells yeah, Alice is my best bitch” before he pulled back the covers. They’d spend the night like that, as Klaus wordlessly promised Ben that he didn’t have to be alone. 

Judging by the amount of company Klaus has now, not much about Ben's training has changed.

Judging by Not-Ben’s shaky step in front of him, he was correct. 

“You know _nothing_ ,”

He gasps, his hands jerking up to hover over his middle before sliding straight down again. 

Whoops, a little too close to home huh? 

Other-Ben inhaled and gritted his teeth, before staring Klaus dead in the eye. 

“You know nothing. What he did, made us strong. Made us a team. Just because none of you could cut it doesn’t mean that we were as _fragile_ ,”

Oh yeah, definitely hit a nerve.

But Klaus is on fire now, as he starts to put one and one together.

“Are we sure? Because this little hotel we’re in looks awfully familiar. If Daddy had his training spot on, how come he needs this little torture chamber? Or was someone a little too unresponsive and in need of correcting?”

Because Klaus has got it now, where he is and why it’s familiar. Whoever it was made for clearly warranted the patented 'Vanya-treatment'.

Judging by how his little sister turned out, Klaus assumes that can’t have ended well.

Not-Ben’s voice remains calm, but judging by the whites on his knuckles Klaus just hit another home run. See Five, he’s not a total moron. 

“It was necessary. Chris was struggling, we found a solution. This was just a ... temporary measure, to regain control,”

Klaus has no idea who Chris is, but before he can probe further, Not-Ben interrupts. 

“Everything he did, everything he does is to make us strong. The fact we’re still a team proves that. Your family could barely make it through a light supper without falling apart,”

He’s not wrong but hang on-

Other-Ben kneels down. 

“Besides, there’s seven of us. How many are you?”

Klaus’ response dies in his throat.

Fuck you.

Fuck you, _so hard_.

It’s not difficult for Not-Ben to see he’d hit his mark. He smirks. 

Back in control.

“Father told us how you’d lost one, that you were a team member short. A brother,”

He raises an eyebrow. 

“I wonder how that happened?”

Klaus stubbornly tries to keep eye contact, but his chest is burning. Everything is burning, actually.

Not-Ben continues. 

“You miss him, don’t you? Were you close, you and him? I think you were. I can’t imagine what that would be like, to fail a teammate so ... completely,”

He leans forward, his face filling Klaus’ vision as it tilts to the side. 

“Did you see it happen?”

Klaus bites his tongue until he tastes blood.

Fuck. You. 

He’s not thinking about that day. Nope. Not at all of course not.

He’s not thinking about how Allison screamed, the clatter of Diego’s knives on the polished marble.

He’s not thinking about the blood. God, there was so much blood.

He’s not thinking about his brother, his little brother because fuck the sort of twin born on the same day thing, that's how it worked, begging and pleading for himself, his own body, to stop.

He’s not thinking about the ringing silence that echoed across the bank teller’s floor. How Vanya trembled, how she _wailed_ when they brought him home wrapped in a plastic sheet. 

He’s not thinking about how he stood alone, in that courtyard, begging his powers to work, just this once. 

No, none of that. 

But he is thinking of a corridor. A long, empty corridor full of bodies he didn’t care about, ghosts he cared even less for, and his shaken sister’s gasp as she stumbled into view. 

The light behind his eyes. The ringing silence in his head. 

Fuck. 

Fuck you. 

The wrong-Ben smiles. 

“I thought so. That must have been terrible,” 

He twists his lips into something like sympathy. But that's not what it is. 

“Maybe, if you’d seen the bigger picture, been _better_ , he would still be alive. You mock us for our loyalty, but at least we’re a full team. If you’d thought of that, you wouldn’t have let him die, on your watch,”

Klaus’ mouth tastes like iron. 

Stop it. Please just fucking stop it. 

He wants to speak, to choke out something grating and barbed and cruel because he knows _nothing_. Absolutely _nothing_.

But he said it in Ben's voice. 

And Klaus splutters into silence. 

He’s right. It’s true. 

Maybe if he’d listened to him, let him have what he wanted. Maybe if he’d been sober they could have talked, he could have saved him. Why couldn’t he save him? Why did he push him away why is he so useless, useless, _useless_

The other Ben leans back, satisfied. But he doesn’t stop. 

“But surely, given your power, you could see him again? That’s your only use, isn't it? You couldn’t summon him, or whatever it is you do?”

Klaus looks down, shutting his eyes. 

For fucks sake, don’t give him what he wants. 

“Or maybe you can’t,”

Not-Ben frowns. 

“What a shame. And you’ve been trying so hard, I can tell,”

Klaus wants to leave. Why is he always locked in the dark with the dead and the past and his regrets?

Why does the little girl hate him so much?

Something else seems to occur to him, and he smiles. 

“Now that I think about it-,”

He reaches out to force Klaus’ eyes open. It's the first time they’ve touched, and every cell in Klaus’ body wants to vomit. 

“You were asking for someone in your sleep. Someone called-,”

He bares his teeth. 

“-Ben,”

Klaus stops breathing. 

“Now that is a coincidence. What am I supposed to make of that?”

Why does he keep having to do this? 

Why is life always so un-fucking-fair?

Why does Klaus always talk to ghosts? 

Number Four doesn’t speak, but looks his not-dead-brother in the eyes, trying not to blink to stop his watering eyes from betraying him.

Not-Ben laughs and nods to himself. 

“Well that is interesting,”

His brow furrows, and his lips twist into a smile.

“I’m right aren’t I, that's why … yes that makes sense now,” 

He nods again and looks back up to Klaus. 

“I’ll have to make Hargreeves aware of this … development,” 

A knock on the window echoes off the chamber. 

Klaus looks up, blinking to clear his vision, and spots the same woman with dark hair from the alley. 

She gestures to her teammate, taps her wrist and points to the ceiling. 

The man sighs, but waves back. 

“I’ll leave you with that I think. You’ve already been … very helpful,”

He straightens his back. 

“ I’m sure we have plenty of time for you to become more … compliant. I doubt your family has had the chance to notice your absence,”

He rises to his feet, his face obscured by the silhouetted light behind him once more.

“Thank you, Klaus. I’ll be back shortly. I’m sure you have plenty more little details to share,” 

His voice is calm and self-assured, any doubt injected by Klaus before smoothed over, suppressed. The loyal soldier once more.

The door behind him groans open, and he steps through, taking his ghosts with him. Klaus catches a glimpse of the other woman, her gloved hands resting impatiently on her hips. She doesn’t give Klaus a second look. 

The other Ben glances back with that freezing, steel-like smile. 

The vault shuts, and Klaus is left alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowee that was a lot of plot there. Oof and a lot of angst too - I do apologise ;) 
> 
> Writing Sparrow!Ben was bloody hard, especially since none of us has any idea what he's gonna be like in S3. I think I'm mostly happy with how he turned out here though ^_^
> 
> I felt like I had to upload today since its the Umbrella/Lila/ Sparrow's Birthdays(and Harold too I guess but he doesn't get a party invite I'm afraid xD). I hope you enjoyed <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Thank you again for all your lovely comments!!! They all mean a lot ^_^


	7. Winds In The East, There's A Mist Coming In

It's quiet. 

Klaus’ eyes are burning. His lungs ache. This is all just too much. Far too fucking much. 

How the fuck did they get here? What kind of sick joke is his life for him to end up, right fucking here. 

Alone, tied down, in the dark.

Well, not the total dark. The Sparrows were kind enough to leave the light on for him and the corridor seems to be illuminated with something too. 

But all the same. 

Klaus lets the bulb shine through his eyelids, letting his teeth dig into his lip and his jaw tense. He’s not actually sure how long he sits there before he opens his eyes, allowing the built-up moisture to fall down his cheek onto his chin. 

His back aches. His arms are going numb. His mouth is dry and he’s absolutely starving. 

Klaus has to get out of here. 

But how? He’s tied down, locked up and trapped under a house full of super-powered sociopaths. He has no idea if his family have even realised he’s gone yet, and he’s completely, emphatically, alone.

Well, that’s not true either. 

In fact, two figures are standing in front of him, one taller than the other. 

He blinks and squints, willing his vision to focus as two faint spectres come into view. 

They’re both women, both wearing the same anachronistic outfit, made up of a red skirt and blouse and dark hats perched on elaborate updos. They each look like a discount Mary Poppins, minus the bag and umbrella. 

Their vision is unfocused, and they’re mumbling anxiously to themselves, wringing their hands and rubbing their arms, completely unaware of Klaus in the slightest. 

His first instinct is to ignore them. They’re the last thing he needs right now, and he goes to turn away and panic in the other direction. But then, the gears in his head start to click with recognition. 

Mary Poppins. 

Oh shit. 

He runs his gaze over again, and can’t stifle a laugh.

Well how about that.

It's the Nannies. Not just any nannies, _their nannies_

The short one on his left? He’s pretty sure she looked after Diego. Klaus recognises her dark hair and pale eyes, and the pretty braid across her forehead. He thinks she might have picked him up once. He’d run his fingers across her hair, fascinated by the intricate patterns she wove into her scalp. 

Her neck is twisted at an odd angle, and she’s leaning heavily to her left side. 

The other one to her right is less familiar, but Klaus knows her too. That's right, she was Five’s carer. He remembers her tightly pulled red bun, the black-rimmed spectacles and the solid beauty mark above her top lip.

One side of her face is drooping, and her left eye is watering and bloodshot. 

Well, what are the chances? 

Pretty good, Klaus supposes. Nanny agencies must be pretty similar in this timeline and he imagines Reginald looked for a very specific set of skills when hiring those charged with his experiment’s care.

How'd they end up haunting in this hole? 

Klaus narrows his eyes and yep, there are the wispy tethers holding both the spirits in place. They connect directly to the floor, their lines almost invisible in the dim light. Poor ladies must have kicked it in here then, got stuck. By the looks of things, it wasn’t a peaceful passing either. 

Oh dear. Klaus thinks he can guess how that happened.

There’d been a few nanny ghosts in the house when he was a kid. They’d mostly stayed in the basement kitchen, quiet, confused and content to watch the children eat in the morning. Klaus hadn’t paid too much attention at the time. Sorry, he was young, had just started learning it was best to ignore the ghosts that trailed behind him. He barely gave them a second thought. 

Looking back, it was a bit of a bad omen. Especially when Grace turned up soon after the last one appeared. 

Now they all have a rough idea about little Vanya’s body count, it seems it might have been a good thing to bring up to the others. At the time he didn’t recognise any of the crying, contorted, bloody women in the familiar Umbrella Ltd. uniform. But considering there's only one child in the house left they could have ‘belonged to’, it might have shed some light on Daddy's secrets a little earlier.

Especially since they did like to watch Number Seven eat the most. 

If one of the Sparrows also were prescribed this little torture chamber, it makes sense the body count may go with it. More dead nannies isn’t a massive surprise. Sadly in the grand scheme of Klaus’ life, it's not even enough to make the front page.

Klaus turns his attention back to the matter at hand. He does a quick circle of the cell. He can’t see any cameras, though they never could in this house. Reggie could be watching at any time. He’s a busy soul though, right? Klaus can’t hang around all day trying to guess when the old bastard finally went to bed. 

It's not like he knew what time it was, anyway.

He gives his restraints an experimental tug, to no avail. They’re pretty solid, no way is he gonna be able to force his way out of them by himself. He needs an extra pair of hands, he needs-

Wait a second. 

He turns to his two cellmates.

Now there’s a thought. 

He thinks about the motel, all those years ago where he found himself in a very similar position to this. Back then, he’d been coming down something chronic, and after several hours of playtime, he’d had a brain wave. A rare moment of inspiration, brought by Ben of course, where his powers had actually come in useful. 

He’d had two great subjects to play with, and it turned out the assassins’ body count worked great with Klaus’ particular brand of a freakshow. 

He’s alone now, and there's no one to mess with using little insights from beyond. But that's not what he’s thinking. 

Back then he’d been half-naked, half asleep and high out of his mind. He had no idea what three years of (on and off) sobriety could give him.

He had no idea what he could do. Say what you like about the last few months, they’ve done wonders for his confidence. 

Well, here goes nothing. 

He reaches out, feels for that connection that is becoming easier and easier to forge, holding it gently in his mind’s eye. He inhales, unclenches his jaw and smiles.

“Hello ladies,”

Two pairs of eyes lock on to him. 

“What are your names?”

He’s met with silence for a moment, then the taller one steps forward. 

“My- My name is Katerina”

Her accent is familiar, eastern European maybe? Perhaps Russian? As she rolls the “r”, something stirs in Klaus’ memory. 

He suddenly recalls early morning breakfast, sitting in oversized chairs with his siblings beside him. They were young, back when Reginald had no time for toddlers and life was a lot simpler for all of them. His own nanny, Gloria he thinks her name was, shushes him gently and Luther's pats his head as a shovels spoonfuls of oatmeal down his throat. It’s one of his nicer childhood memories now he thinks on it. 

Somewhere else, he remembers a very little Diego reaching up for his spoon as a low voice tells him to “ _be patient Number Two_ ”, letting the “r” draw out in gentle annoyance. 

His nostalgia only grows as the second nanny answers. 

“My name is Dorothy,” 

Yes, that's right. Poor woman, raising little Number Five hadn’t been easy. He’d picked up his jumping skills at a young age, and Klaus can just about remember her shrieks as she desperately tried to wrestle him into a high chair. Looks like life hadn't been much smoother in this timeline either. 

“Well hi there, nice to meet you,”

Okay, now what. 

Well, Grace always told him to mind his manners. 

“How are you in this fine basement of ours today? Keeping well?”

The two women stare at him, and he feels the familiar flow of their confusion pass over him. They don’t respond.

Okay. 

“I uh don’t suppose you two fine ladies could lend me a hand could you?”

Nothing. 

Right. This is getting awkward now. But Klaus has no choice but to press on.

“You see, my Sparrow friends upstairs have me a little tied up and I uh-,”

“Sparrows?”

Dorothy’s face falls, and Katerina leans back. 

Klaus nods. 

“Yeah, the Sparrows, you know, famous crime-fighting super children? They uh-,”

Both women step back, and Dorothy’s hands come up to her face. 

“No no no no not the Sparrows, no I can’t no-,”

She immediately begins to shake. 

Klaus swallows. Oh no, that’s not what he intended at all. 

He turns to Katerina. 

“Please I need you to listen to me I-,”

She shakes her head, and Klaus hears a sickening crunch as her twisted neck contorts with the motion. 

“They’re devil children, they’re cursed and they’re wrong and they’re too dangerous no no no no,”

Dorothy begins to moan, and Katerina's face crumples. 

“They were so sweet, so very sweet but they grew and they grew and they’re _wrong_ and I couldn’t run and it _h u r t_ ,”

“He killed me, they took him in here and my little boy he killed me in here I didn’t know why but it _burned_ and I saw such terrible things and it hurt and it hurt and it hurt-,”

Both women start to sob, and Klaus doesn’t know what to do. He sits helplessly as he watches them fall apart, their sanity fracturing under the weight of their demises. 

Fuck. 

Klaus has got their attention, but the two women are in no state for polite conversation. They haven’t been down here for relatively long, but gruesome deaths tend to have this effect on people. All he’s done is aimed their baggage straight at him. 

If Klaus wasn’t in such a hurry, he’d probably understand. It’s not their fault, it's just a brutal fact of being stuck on the wrong side of the veil for too long. If he’d had more time he might be able to put some more effort into helping them move on, and all that. But alas. 

He needs their hands, and without some spiritual assistance, he’s not getting out of here. But these two are in no state for negotiation or anything at all. 

Klaus has gotten used to the little friends he’s made over the last few months, but they were made under street lamps and on park benches and were usually pretty coherent, to begin with. 

Where’s Harvey when you need him? 

The connection Klaus has forged is still strong, and he feels it.

Feels the pain and sorrow that comes with an early, tragic death. 

Their fear, their confusion, their _frustration_. 

They’ve been stuck in the house with their killers for a long, long time, and they want out. To escape. To be _free_. 

Well, you know what sisters, Klaus could do with some of that too. 

He’s sorry they’re dead, he’s sorry he can’t help them but they have to- he _needs them to-_

Cold.

Klaus is very, very cold.

The chill drops in his gut, and freezes up his chest and across his arms, dripping right down to his bound fingertips. 

The gentle connection he wove tenses, the light strings become taught, almost ready to snap.

Klaus feels his heart thud against his chest, and gasps as it beats like a _pulse_ across the fragile chord. 

His fingers buzz, like television static, and the room goes silent.

Klaus blinks. The two women stare down, their attention undivided. 

Okay. 

Their arms hang loosely by their sides. Their eyes are clear and their faces no longer creased with tension, or fear or … well any emotion at all really. 

They look at Klaus expectantly. 

He looks back, his mouth forming a perfectly circular “O”.

Right, now the fuck did he manage that? 

The link is still there, it’s chord is taut and secure. It's much stronger than it had been a few seconds ago. Each time his blood thumped in his ears, he felt the connection beat back in response. 

He can still sense what they feel, but it’s muted. Like it’s behind a sheet of glass. 

Instead, he’s overcome with a need. A need to leave, a need to escape, to-

Oh.

That’s him. 

Whatever he’s feeling, what _they’re_ feeling, right now? 

Holy shit that’s him.

But what does that mean, exactly? 

Well, no time like the present. 

“Uh hello?”

No response. Katarina smiles slightly, but both remain silent.

This feels weird, a bit … wrong? 

But if he does have their attention…

“Hi yeah, sorry about that, I just uh,”

He takes a steadying breath. What was his plan again?

“Yeah sorry, I just need you to listen okay? I really need your help,”

Dorothy blinks.

“These assholes, the Sparrows, the ‘devil children’ or whatever? They’ve kind of got me tied up right here, and I need to get out. They know where my siblings, my family are and they want to hurt them and I don’t know what or when or how but-,“

He shakes his head.

“I can’t let it happen. I just can’t okay? I have to warn them,”

The link pulses again, and Klaus feels a little breathless. 

A beat of silence.

“What can we do?”

Klaus almost jumps a little when Katarina speaks. Her voice is calm, even a little concerned. She leans in intently, and Dorothy moves to mimic her, both spirits responding to the tether’s firm grip.

Okay, this is very very new. But they’re not crying, they’re listening, so he presses forward. 

“I need you to help me get out of here. Any chance you lovely ladies could untie me?”

They stare another moment. 

“Please, I don’t know how much time I’ve got,” 

On a whim, an instinct, Klaus pulls on the hook settled in his stomach. Another thump of _something_ echoes across the room. 

The women blink, then nod, immediately moving to cross behind him. 

Klaus grits his teeth and focuses, willing the two spectres to solidify, to move a little further into the living world. He shivers as he feels cool fingers brush against his palms, and exhales as the straps around his wrists loosen and fall to the floor. He rubs his joints, then goes to untie his feet only to find Dorothy carefully undoing the cords on his ankles. Instead, he undoes the strap across his lap and stretches, groaning as his spine cracked in relief. 

“Thanks, girls, much appreciated,” he breathes as he rises to his feet, rolling his aching neck and shoulders. 

He ducks almost immediately though, and creeps towards the door, careful not to let his head rise further than the porthole. That woman had been seated out there before, it wouldn’t do to have a witness this early on. 

He has another idea. 

“Hey, Dot. Don’t suppose you could peep to see if any of our Sparrow friends are out there, could ya?” 

She nods again, but her brow furrows, still uneasy at the prospect of meeting her killers who had her on the brink of tears not five minutes ago. Klaus winces. But he has no time to worry about the implications of whatever new party trick he was pulling. 

The nanny walks over next to Klaus and peers out of the porthole. She looks left, then right, then back down to Klaus to shake her head. 

“There’s no one there, the corridor is empty,”

Thank Christ. 

Klaus stands up and moves on to examine the door.

It's cast iron and solid, with no way to open from the inside. He gives it an experimental shove with his shoulder, just in case, but curses as it refuses to budge. 

Right okay, what next? 

He peers out the window.

The corridor is dark, empty and every bit as ominous as he remembers it being. He can just about see the elevator at the other end, lit only by a single bare bulb in the centre. He looks down, and can just make out the door crank. Luther hasn't wedged it with super strength this time, so all it needs is someone to turn it back. Unfortunately, Klaus happens to be on the exact wrong side to that. 

Fortunately, the Sparrows aren’t the only ones with allies who can walk through walls. 

He turns back to his two comrades, who stand expectantly under the light as if waiting for further orders. 

“Uh, hi I’m sorry to ask again, but-,”

He nods to the door.

“Don’t suppose you could give me a shove could you?” 

He feels the link tense again, and the two women glide easily through the heavy steel trap. He peeps through the hole and watches as they both curl their hands around the wheel. He clenches his fists and grins as the lock groans and scrapes. 

Both the nannies step back, and Klaus gives an experimental push. 

The door swings open. 

Klaus steps through immediately, smiling gratefully. 

A celebratory thrill shoots down his spine. Look at him go, well, them go he guesses. 

“Fabulous!" 

He grins. 

"Right ladies, onwards and upwards!”

Both women tense, and Klaus falters.

He looks them in the eyes. 

They’re still listening, still coherent and steady under Klaus’ gentle control, or whatever it is he’s pulling out of his ass. But he knows, he feels, that they don’t want to leave the basement. He can see their other link, the thin streams of _something_ connecting them firmly to the room behind him. Their place of death keeping hold of the two lost souls. 

Their eyes are wide, Katerina is biting her lip and Dorothy’s hands are shaking. 

He could make them go. He is sure, in an unfamiliar, abstract sense, that if he asked, if he pulled, both of them would go wherever he told them to. He’s got a way to go yet, and having two ghostly assistants would be useful. 

But it feels wrong. 

He’s spent the last few months finally getting it through his thick skull that the dead are people too. And to push them all this way, especially when they very clearly aren't keen? That feels like a dick move. 

They’re both afraid, and he knows what that means deep in his soul. He knows what it's like to be forced to face your fears when you’re not ready. 

So instead he smiles and blows them a kiss. 

“Actually, nevermind. Thank you for everything girlies,”

They both visibly relax, but as Klaus loosens the tether he watches their images begin to flicker. 

Oh dear.

They’re going back into the dark, back to that terrified, fractured state. Klaus doesn’t want to leave them there. 

It’s not their fault. The versions of them he knew, all those years ago when life was simpler and smaller? Well, they were kind, sweet to them all no matter who their charge was. They all missed them when they left, no matter how much they came to love Grace. 

It doesn’t seem fair that they’re stuck down here forever. 

He wishes he could-

There's no time. 

He waves, [GOODBYE]

“I’ll see you around, ladies,” 

It's a weak promise, but he makes it all the same.

He turns and makes his way down the corridor, and he knows that the two women are back where he found them. 

He stops at the elevator. If he remembers right, this should spit him out in the living room behind the bookcase, because Dad loved to be a discount scooby doo villain.

It's not ideal, it's hardly inconspicuous, but it's not like there are any other options here. It's one of the few parts of the house where he didn’t know all the nooks and crannies, and as much as he’d love a sneakier alternative, he’s running short on time here. 

Oh well, fingers crossed. 

He almost steps in when he hears a voice next to him. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” 

Sorry, what?

Another ghost is right in his ear. That was quick. 

He’s young, maybe in his early 30s, dressed in a black suit with a wide-brimmed hat and a wired earpiece. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms folded, and his grey eyes peering over dark glasses. Klaus doesn’t recognise him from before, but he looks like some kind of half-assed Bond-style agent, maybe? Reginald was always hanging around with government goons, and this dude looks like a textbook evil henchman. He never could be subtle. 

“I beg your pardon?”

The ghost crosses his arms.

“I said I wouldn’t go up there. Spit you right out in the action,”

Klaus hadn’t expected to see another dead stooge so quick, but this guy is a lot more with it than the two nannies. He wonders how he got down here.

Klaus immediately reaches out, acting on instinct as the connection comes a lot quicker than before.

“Yeah well, you got any better ideas?”

The man gives a detached shrug. 

“Maybe,”

Klaus stares. 

“Mind sharing with the class?”

The man says nothing, looking almost smug. He then shrugs. 

“Might wanna check behind there,”

Sceptical, Klaus moves round, courteously opting not to walk through his new informant. He finds himself in front of a blank wall. 

He turns back. 

“Not being funny friend, but I’m a little more corporeal than you, so the wall’s not a viable option,”

The man huffs out a small laugh. More of a cough, really. 

“I’m aware of that,”

He steps over, letting the hall light wash across his figure, highlighting the very nasty looking burn marks across his neck. Suspiciously, the wound is hand-shaped. 

He points to a panel on the wall.

“Try pressing here,”

Alrighty then. Klaus complies and jumps back with a light _"oh!"_ as the section compresses under his fingers. The wall _clicks_ , revealing invisible hinges as the concrete swings inwards. 

He pokes his head through and finds an empty shaft. As he looks around, a set of lights flicker to life and reveals a winding iron staircase ascending upwards. The railings are draped in cobwebs, and the air smells of dust and mould. 

Neat. 

Klaus turns back. 

“Wow man, thanks for the hint,”

He shrugs, the weeping marks on his throat opening and closing with the motion. 

“No problem, felt like you needed some help,”

Felt like. Not looked, felt. 

Huh. 

Klaus places an experimental foot on the step. The structure is old, as old as the house upstairs and definitely predates the elevator. He wonders idly how old the bunker is behind him. Well sweet, gift horses and mouths and all that. 

He goes to move upwards, but not before glancing at his informant. 

“What's your name?”

The guy looks up. 

“The names Teddy,”

“You been down here long Teddy?”

“A while, I guess. Hard to tell, you understand,”

He spreads his arms out referring to dull, grey walls. 

Klaus nods.

“Fair enough”

Klaus pauses. 

“Care to join me?”

Teddy thinks a moment. Klaus consciously does not pull on the link between them. 

“Might as well. Fuck all to do down here,” 

Klaus grins and starts making his way up the stairs. He’s grateful for the company, even if it's silent. He doesn’t do well in the dark. They walk in silence for a few minutes, until curiosity gets the better of him. 

“So Teddy, how’d you end up haunting this neck of the woods?”

His companion shrugs. 

“Not much to tell. Worked for the old man, got a better offer from an interested party, the intel you know what I mean. Took the money, bit me in the ass,”

He doesn’t sound too broken up about it like it's all part of the business. Very well might be to be fair, Klaus knows nothing about being a bodyguard/ secret agent/ dogsbody. To be honest, must be a redundant job, being the muscle for a guy who adopted seven overpowered superheroes. 

“Was a good gig for a while, till one of his freaks found out. Rest is pretty obvious I think,” 

Yeah, it is. The stairwell is dark, but Klaus can still see the fatal blow on his new friend’s neck. Yikes, that's gotta hurt. He has a pretty good idea which one of the so-called freaks did that one. 

Teddy continues. 

“Been watching their dungeon ever since, seen a lot of folks come and go. Not much for entertainment mind you,”

“Have to say, you’re the most exciting thing that's happened down here in years. Never seen anyone get out before,”

Yippee for him. To be fair, he kind of cheated. 

“Yeah well I’m pretty motivated,”

“I can see that,” 

They continue in silence. Fuck how many stairs are there? He’s about to voice as such when he sees a crack of light a few meters ahead. 

“Here you are,”

Klaus squints, the light bulbs dim and flickering, but he can just about see the outline of a door. He turns to Teddy. 

“Any idea where this goes?” 

He shrugs. 

“No idea. Never been up this far before,”

Great. 

Klaus presses his ear to the door. He can’t hear anything, and he can’t see any shadows under the frame. 

“Don’t suppose you could check the coast, Agent Double O Teddy?”

Klaus goes to nudge him, but Teddy’s face falls. 

“I’m not an agent”

“Well, whatever!”

Teddy raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms defensively. 

“I’m not your bodyguard”

“I know! But, just have a look for me”

“Why should I?”

Where’s this come from? Must have hit a nerve, he has a habit of doing that. 

“Come on man, be a pal! It’s not like they can see you or anything”

Teddy holds his gaze. 

Maybe Klaus shouldn’t have called him agent, as he appears to have insulted both his new best friend and best method of escape. 

Shit, he does like to put his foot in it.

But he can’t let that get in the way now. 

Klaus puts on his best pleading face. 

“I’m sorry alright, but I need to get out here without getting myself stabbed. I just need you to look for me,”

Teddy sighs.

“Pretty Please?”

Silently, Klaus places his metaphorical hand on their link. He doesn’t pull, doesn’t push, but he holds it firm as he stared into the man’s eyes.

“Fine,”

He steps through and Klaus sighs. 

Christ, ghosts could be so tetchy. 

After a moment, Teddy sticks his head through the door. 

“They’re outside in the living room, but you’re in a blind spot,”

Great okay. 

Klaus gently presses against the door and hears something _click_.

He winces as the hinges let out a whining creak, and peaks around the hatch. 

They’re in a little nook off the main room, a few meters away from the elevator entrance. They’re surrounded by towers of bookcases, and the doorway is obscured by a lush tropical bush. Klaus keeps low and crawls on his hands and knees, aware of Teddy standing unbothered behind him. 

He reaches an enormous suit of armour, acquired by Reginald on his travels no doubt, and Klaus presses his back against the wall. 

Teddy looks down. 

“This is far enough for me,”

What? 

“You’re interesting enough and good luck to you. But I ain’t here to be pushed around, and I ain’t gonna piss off these freaks,”

He gestures around the corner. 

“I got you out for free. Unless you got money or something, I’m done,”

Hang on, ghosts don’t need money, asshole. 

Klaus goes to protest, but he needs to be quiet. He’s about to pull on the tether, just a little he promises. But then the ghost steps back through the door and the tentative link loosens. 

Fine, be like that. 

Klaus waves to the empty space [GOODBYE].

Right, now what?

Crouched where he is, Klaus can’t see much, but he catches a hum of conversation from around the corner. 

He strains his ears, and can just about make out several voices to his right. 

“ - he’s been very helpful. I have informed Hargreeves of our discoveries, but he feels a little more time with him will be necessary to procure more intel,”

That's fake Ben.

“For someone with such a big mouth, he sure knows how to say little while saying a lot,” 

That's a woman’s voice, maybe the one who stood outside? Okay, that's two Sparrows, how many more? 

“What exactly are we looking for? I’ve been watching them for weeks, what could the scrawny hippie possibly add?”

Another woman, Dominica the wall walker maybe? 

“We’ve been over this. Hargreeves thinks a personal touch will be necessary to undermine their cohesion. The group was fractured when they met in 1963, he has already revealed intimate details that can be used to weaken them further,” 

Klaus winces. 

“ _SurelY. ThE. ResT. OF. TheiR. TeaM. WilL. ComE. FoR. HiM,_ ”

Ow, Jesus Christ what was that? The voice is robotic, cold, clinical. It rings with feedback, and Klaus immediately brings his hands to his ears. 

Okay, that had to be the Cube, maybe? 

And Klaus thought the 58-year-old-13-year-old and the giant half-monkey man made their family weird. 

Fake Ben replies.

“Perhaps. They haven’t been concerned with his whereabouts so far, but if they do realise he’s missing and track him to here, that is no problem. We will simply move our … extermination... forward on our own turf,” 

Shit. Klaus does not like the sound of that. Perhaps being the family disappointment may have an upside: no one is gonna give a shit that he’s gone and wandered straight into a murder trap. 

The Sparrows continue talking, a few more unfamiliar voices mixing in to discuss plans and strategy, but Klaus has decided to stop listening. 

Instead, he decides to take a gamble. 

Keeping low, he crawls to the edge of the wall and peeks his head through the pot plant’s enormous leaves. 

He immediately recoils back. 

The living room was the same as it had been when they’d first landed. Full of Reginald’s crusty old war trophies and photos, with Not-Ben’s horrific portrait looming over the centre. 

Gathered on the couches sat the Sparrows, all seven of them, including the Cube, crowded with their backs to him facing their Number One. 

They were enraptured in their briefing, so Klaus had little to worry about them noticing they’re being watched.

No, it wasn’t them who were the issue here. 

Because holy shit this house is _haunted_.

Ghosts filled every edge of Klaus’ vision, their bodies in various states of damage, dismemberment and decay.They were quiet, but the more he looked the louder they became, going from mumbling to moaning to _screeching_ as they encircled their killers. Occasionally reaching out to grab the oblivious Sparrows, it was the most spirits Klaus had ever seen packed into one, very small space. 

Now the academy had had its fair share of dead folks when Klaus was a kid. Even before they were sent out into the world, there were always a few groaning spectres who liked to follow Klaus around. As the academy began to build up its body count, Number Four’s entourage began to build up rapidly, despite never taking a life himself. His sibling’s victims began to adopt him from the moment they left the scene, and the more he gained the further Klaus spiralled into his less savoury habits. 

They were loud, they were angry, and they were everywhere. But they were nothing on this lot. 

It makes sense, the Sparrows have been doing the superhero thing a lot longer than the Umbrellas ever did. It's not like Klaus hasn’t seen a lot of angry ghosts before, and they’re not the main issue on his plate right now. He’s not even scared, oddly enough.

But shit, it's a lot for his brain to process. Give him a minute to catch his breath. 

The only way out now is through the living room, and unfortunately, it's a little populated right this second. 

Klaus isn’t subtle at the best of times, and he knows for a fact it's only a matter of time before they clock that he’s hidden back here, let alone before they spot him crawling behind their couches. 

He needs to get them to leave, somehow. If he can clear a path to the front door, he could slip out and run back to his siblings before they even clock that he’s missing. 

Yeah, but how’s he gonna do that? 

He’s not Five, or Diego or any one of his much more competent family members. He’s not a strategist, his best plans tend to be “ _keep throwing shit (or indeed himself) until something gives_ ”. 

He gets the feeling that's not gonna cut it here. 

Okay, he needs to think. What does he have? 

He has a stick of gum, a pack of rolling papers and about ten dollars cash in his coat. He has a hair tie on his wrist, and a lighter in his jeans. Not much help there. 

He’s on his own, he can’t exactly fight his way out with his shitty powers, and he’s got _all these stupid fucking ghosts_ running around making it impossible to even think-

Wait. Now hold on. 

Now there’s a thought.

He can’t fight his way out, there's no way he’s risking that. But hang on a damn moment. 

This house is brimming with spirits. And while he hasn’t got time for a length chat right now, turns out that might not be an issue. 

Oh yeah, this could backfire horribly. 

Better than nothing.

Klaus peeks back around the corner and does a quick scan. Whoever he picks they can’t be too far gone, he’s not sure how far his new deal can reach, so tries to look for someone not scrabbling blindly at their chest or screaming at an empty wall. 

Bingo. 

She’s a girl, about 18, maybe 19. She's dressed in civvies with blue jeans and some kind of retail uniform pulled over a coloured button up. She has a hole in her neck, her face is splattered with blood, and she’s mumbling to herself as she twists her hands compulsively in her hair. 

He looks for something to cling to, some familiarity to recognise. 

After a moment he settles on her bare arms, which reveal the faded remains of a tattoo. It's large, spreading up from her wrist, made up of flowers and leaves and, crucially, a black and white tiger. 

There we go. She’s got good taste. 

Klaus reaches out tentatively and grins when the familiar thread stretches across and the chill drops in his stomach, trailing down his arms. 

She looks up, blinking, and immediately walks over towards him. 

He waves [HELLO], and scuttles back into the nook out of sight. He whispers. 

“Hi, What’s your name?”

“Caitlin, my name is Caitlin - where?”

“I’m really really sorry, I don’t have a lot of time for small talk right now,”

He keeps his voice low, holding his hands out in a conciliatory manner. 

“My name’s Klaus, and I kind of need you to do me a favour, is that okay?”

She frowns, then raises an eyebrow. She folds her arms and takes a defensive stance, but the corner of her mouth quirks up with amusement. 

“And why would I do that?”

Okay, let’s do this.

He focuses on the link, letting her feelings wash over him like waves on a beach. It comes easily, and he gets a sense of this stranger in surprising clarity. She’s confused more than anything, he can feel her looking him up and down as she grapples with her situation. She died young, that's obvious, and she’s not too impressed with that. Understandable really. 

But there’s something else there. 

She’s curious. She wants to know what his game is, what his plan is. It’s as if she’s trying to figure out if she might want to play too. 

Okay, he can work with that. 

He wipes on his most charming smile. 

“I mean, you’re dead right? These guys killed you, no offence. If you help me, you might get a chance to, I don’t know, get your own back, mess with them?”

He presses on their shared chord and tries as best he can to project his intentions. 

_"Come on,"_ he begs _"help me out here,"_. 

“What do you say, fancy causing a little havoc?”

He holds his breath. 

She checks him over again, shifting her weight to one side, then smirks. Her posture relaxes and her expression widens into a grin. 

“What do you mean, mess with them?”

Klaus grins. He beckons her forward and she crouches down. He whispers in her ear, and she pulls back. 

“Is that all?”

Yeah sorry, he’s not feeling creative right now. 

He nods, and she shrugs. 

Caitlin phases through the wall, and Klaus grasps the image of her in his mind like a vice, keeping every bone in his body as tense as possible as he pulls on the chord. 

For a few moments, nothing happens. Klaus bites his lip and crosses his fingers. 

BANG

An almighty crash from upstairs shakes the Sparrows out of their briefing. 

“What on earth?” 

Klaus holds his breath as he hears Not-Ben rise immediately from his seat. 

“It came from the top floor”

Result. 

He listens as the Sparrows scramble one by one out of the room. He hears them thunder up the staircase, right up to where Klaus is pretty sure several of Reginald’s prize hunting trophies have just been thrown to the floor. 

Operation Poltergeist is a success. Klaus honestly feels a little giddy. 

He wastes no time, and peers out from his hiding spot.

The room is empty, and he immediately starts to crawl his way across the carpet, wincing as he walks straight through several lingering spirits that didn't follow the Sparrows upstairs. 

Taking the routes most obscured by various tasteless furniture, Klaus soon finds himself in the main arch just before the entrance hall. 

He goes to slip through the door, before a noise echoes off the hallway. Klaus throws himself behind the bar, biting back a grunt as he collides with the tiled floor. 

“That was strange,”

Klaus listens with his hands over his mouth as Not-Ben and another Sparrow, the gloved one maybe, walk in front of the counter. 

“Yes. It was,”

Klaus’ heart hammers in his ears as he desperately tries to control his shaking limbs. 

He bites his lip and tucks himself under the shelves, careful not to disturb the glasses stacked next to him. 

“What do you think it was?”

“I’m not sure,”

Not-Ben steps forward, then exhales decisively. 

“I think I’ll go and check on our guest, just to be safe,”

 _"Yeah fuck no I’d rather you didn’t,"_ Klaus thinks. 

But the other Ben is already walking towards the elevator, and Klaus impulsively reaches out for anything, anyone for help. 

An old man, in his 60s with a knitted vest and thinning hair, manifests crouched across from him. 

Before he has time to speak, Klaus practically grabs him, latching on to his spirit with both his metaphorical hands. 

He can’t speak, not with them close by, but he looks the ghost straight in the eyes and pushes all his fear, his desperation, his _need_ for help that he can towards him. 

The other man blinks and shifts, but nods. 

Okay great, now where should he go?

He looks down and huffs out a silent laugh.

Aha. 

How's he going to tell him though? 

They’re right there, how can this guy know he _needs to go to the base-_. 

As soon as he thinks, the old man stands and disappears off to Klaus left. 

He can just about hear his captors reach halfway across the room before a shuddering CRASH rumbles from below. 

The two Sparrows jump, and Klaus hears them run straight past his hiding spot downstairs. 

Thanks, whatever your name was. Klaus makes an absent mental note to find out later. 

He doesn’t have time to celebrate though as he crouches and slips through the archway. 

He’s in the lobby, the chandelier looming above him and the door seeming to shine behind the glass.

He checks the perimeter. 

All the Sparrows are now spread out across the house. He has a few seconds tops before they clock there's something up.

Klaus decides to go for it, tiptoeing towards the exit. He’s almost there and reaches out for the knob as he hears a familiar _click_.

But it's not the lock 

Klaus turns, and he knows exactly who he’ll see. 

Sir Reginald Hargreeves stands at the top of the stairs, his familiar silhouette, complete with the hat and cane and stick up his ass, highlighted against the stained glass. He studies Klaus coldly through his monocle, his eyes scanning his new subject with cruel curiosity.

“I’m almost impressed,”

Are you fucking kidding? 

Klaus barely bites back a laugh. Instead, he shudders. 

“Out of all your teammates, you were the weakest link. Now it seems I have underestimated your abilities. I observed your tricks with great interest,”

Fuck, the cameras. Stupid Reggie and his voyeurism kink. 

“What a shame you only made it this far,”

Klaus hates him. He’d forgotten that, after all this time apart, but it's a fact of his existence. No matter how coy he played it, how far he detached himself, he hates his dad more than anything else. 

Hates how small he feels in front of him. Hates how his hands shake and lungs stutter. 

But he’s so close, so damned close.

And he learned a long time ago that his father is not the boss of him. 

“Sorry, not-Dad I’m afraid I’m gonna have to check out of this dump. Been lovely seeing you,” 

“I’m afraid not,”

Freckled hands grab him through the door from behind. 

This fucking woman. 

The rest of her teammates are around him too, appearing on the stairwell. Not Ben walks, smiling, to stand by Hargreeves’ left. 

“You could have been a useful insight, we had much to learn from you, but it seems you are far too slippery. And you appear resistant to all our administrations but one,”

He nods towards the glove girl as Klaus shudders, remembering that not quite familiar but certainly adjacent drowsiness that overtook him in the alley. 

Huh. Score one for the ex-drug addict. Klaus is pretty sure he has the tranquiliser tolerance of a bull elephant at this point, even supernatural ones. There’s a reason he switched to uppers, not downers when he hit eighteen. 

Reggie continues. 

“A pity. Alas, even if you can’t talk, you can still be bait, dead or not. I’m sure your teammates won’t last long once they finally reach the grounds,”

He nods to his right. 

“Number Four," 

The gloved girl walks out from the shadows, uncovering her hands and striding quickly towards the front door. 

Oh shit Nah. 

Klaus is not having that. No way. 

He’s pretty sure he could survive whatever her poisonous touch is about to do but, _dammit_. 

He’s almost there. He’s got this far all on his own (well mostly), and he has to get out now. 

Besides, he can’t count on the little girl upstairs to play ball, and now he’s definitely running out of time for his siblings and he has no idea what he’s gonna do. 

He opens his mouth.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he chirps, struggling to raise his hands from his captor’s grip. 

The girl keeps going, but Hargreeves tilts his head. 

“And whyever not?”

Klaus swallows, putting on his best smile and standing straight against the woman behind him. 

“You see, the big one upstairs and I have a good thing going. I’m not as dainty and fragile as I look, I wouldn’t wanna see what happens if you try and put me down,”

He is clearly talking out of his ass, but he’s surprised to see Reginald bristle.

Good. He carries on. 

“Yeah, she’s a little bitch, but killing me will only piss me off. You wouldn’t like to see that, could get messy,”

“You’re bluffing,”

Yeah, you think? 

But Klaus is underway now, not sure what he’s waiting for but he’s a chatter mouth dammit. 

Maybe if he clamours for time, talks his way out of the corner he could get a chance to slip away. Or at least cause some trouble before he gets taken out. 

Besides, Reginald might be his father. Might be responsible for nearly every crack and splinter in his psyche. Might be the man who makes his heart shudder and blood freeze. 

But Sir Reginald Hargreeves has been dead for three years.

He watched the news. He danced around the kitchen with his dusty remains. Watched them drop unceremoniously in the rainy courtyard behind them. 

He knows everyone dies eventually, but despite everything his father built himself to be, he’s finally sure that the man standing above him is mortal. A corpse in the making just like everyone else. 

And the dead don’t scare Klaus. Not any more. 

He huffs. 

“You think you and your numbers frighten me, old man?" 

Klaus straightens against his captor's grip. 

You’re a ghost Hargreeves. I’ve seen it. I’ve stubbed out cigarettes in your ashes,”

He laughs, a little hysterically.

“Hell, I’ve seen your crusty ass on the other side. And lemme tell you, you might be a billionaire inventor sadist down here, but where you’re going you're just another voice, another miserable life for the little girl upstairs to file away,”

Klaus is rambling, letting everything bubble over. To be honest this is better than therapy. 

Reginald doesn’t seem perturbed. 

Makes sense, the man was quite happy to off himself for the greater good in the last timeline, no reason why this asshole would be any different. The guy was obsessed with the big picture and had long seen himself as simply a cog in some huge, incomprehensible machine. 

However, he watches the Sparrows exchange looks. Even his executioner pauses in her stride. 

They’re mostly incredulous, but there's a flicker of anxiety too. Even Not-Ben straightens up, looking towards Reginald with uncertain eyes. 

Perhaps it's the thought of their father, their general, their jailer, dead and gone. 

Or maybe it's the icy chill spreading down Klaus’ hands, creeping silently across the room with every word. 

What for? God knows, but Klaus feels good, in control, _powerful_ for the first time ever, even as he stared down the inevitable. 

“You abandoned us, picked a whole new load of freaks to ruin. But Reggie? If you thinking putting me down is going to stop your first little troupe from figuring you out, you’ve got another thing coming,”

“Number 4, quickly,”

The woman unfroze. 

She's right in front of him now, pulling the gloves off her hand and reaching out to his face. 

Ah shit. This is gonna hurt like a bitch. 

Klaus steals himself, shuts his eyes and prepares for black and white.

A flash burns across his lids and a crack rattles against his skull. 

Klaus’ eyes open.

The world is in glorious colour. 

“See Klaus, this is why we don’t wander off,” 

Hang on that sounds like…

Five?

His littlest (and biggest) brother is right in front of him, standing right in between the two Number Fours He smiles, takes his hands out of his pockets and turns on his heel. 

And socks the other woman right in the face.

Klaus steps forward away from his captor, feeling her hands squeeze his arms tighter. 

He goes to pull when the grip is tugged away and is replaced by … Diego? 

“Shit Klaus, are you alright?”

Wait a minute. 

Klaus’s vision clears and _holy shit they’re all here_. 

Allison is on his right, squeezing his hand and meeting his eyes with concern. Vanya throws out her hands and Luther stamps his foot, and the two Sparrows are flung with an unseen force to the other side of the room. 

Five looks Klaus up and down, nods, and turns towards Hargreeves. 

“Old Man, I think we need to talk,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Ooh more plot, more powers stuff. Bit of a slog to write to be honest, I've never been happy writing "action", but the image of Klaus solid snaking his way through the mansion with various unhelpful to helpful ghosts in tow was too good an opportunity to miss. 
> 
> There may be a little gap for the next chapter because uni and stuff, but I have got the next-door-but-one chapter written already ;) 
> 
> Thank you again for all your lovely comments, and I hope you guys have a nice day ^_^


	8. Laws Of Aviation

Klaus’ mouth is on the floor. 

Allison holds his arm, one hand smoothing out his coat and the other holding his shoulder while Diego smacks his hand against his upper arm. 

“Are you okay Klaus? I’m sorry we took so long Diego made us look all over the city we wanted to be sure where you were-,“

“-I knew I should have put a tracker on you little shit, we spent the whole night in every damn city park, you know how many there are in this shithole-?”

“-Are you hurt Klaus?”

Klaus shakes his head, dumbly. His family are lined up around him, forming a protective barrier against the atrium’s front wall. Diego and Allison have him flanked at either side, each flanked in turn with Luther and Vanya. Five stands at the head, his fists clenched and his eyes fixed on Reginald.

Hargreeves studies them all, and his little birds follow in turn. Not-Ben’s eyes narrow in curiosity, and Klaus feels Diego and Allison stiffen beside him. 

This is gonna be a shit show. 

Alright, who's gonna start?

“I must confess myself impressed at how quickly you noticed your teammate was amiss. My previous intelligence suggested he was not ranked highly in your concern,”

Thanks Dad, you always knew just what to say.

Five smirks and quirks his head. 

“Yeah well, Klaus does like to disappear,”

Five glances back with a raised eyebrow.

“But when he doesn’t show up for pancakes it's good practice to make sure he hasn’t fallen down a manhole or something,” 

Klaus resists the urge to hiss. Instead, he glances at Diego, whose hand is still gripped tight on his shoulder as he checks him up and down. His eyes linger on his neck, and Klaus wonders if the glove lady’s alleyway administrations left a mark, like Teddy downstairs. The last thing he needs is a poison hickey. 

But then he takes in the gruff concern behind his brother's eyes and something loosens. 

They came for him.

They came for him, for stupid, flaky, _useless Number four_.

As he meets Diego’s eyes, he can hardly believe what he’s seeing. 

He’s shaken from his musings when Reginald speaks again. 

“It’s no matter, it simply means we must move our plans forward,”

Five straightens. 

“I guess we must,” 

Reginald hasn’t moved from his place at the top of the stairs. His Sparrows are perched around him with cold eyes and cooler smiles, the Cube hovering sinisterly above them all. Five stands firm, his legs spread apart and fists loose to his sides. What's left of the Umbrella Academy stands behind him, everyone but Klaus ready for … something. He doesn’t want to think about what. 

So … who makes the first move here? 

Fuck, what even is their move?

Of course it's Hargreeves who breaks the silence. 

“You understand, of course, that I cannot allow you to leave,”

To Klaus’ surprise, it's Allison who responds. 

“Why not? We don’t want any trouble, we’ve had enough fighting. We just want to go home,”

Klaus wonders if he detects a hint of rumour in her voice. She hasn’t said the magic words, but there’s a hum, a pitch that he recognises from years of childhood subjection to his sister’s skills. Absently, he questions how she does that. How does she know where to focus, where to _pull_ as she bends the world to her will. Is it anything like-

Reginald replies. 

“Maybe so. But this timeline is stable. After what I have gathered from our first meeting, you take the apocalypse wherever you go,”

Klaus sees Vanya shift, agitated, in the corner of his vision. Sorry Van, but he does kind of have a point. They are three for four at this point, end times wise. 

Reggie goes on.

“In changing events, I have so far prevented any further disruption. I cannot allow you to erase all I have accomplished,” 

Luther steps forward. 

“Yeah well, how do you know one of your new recruits won’t go nuclear?”

He gestures ahead of him.

“The main reason the apocalypse happened in our timeline is because of your crappy parenting. What makes you think you've done any better this time around?” 

He shoots an apologetic look at their Number Seven. She nods back in response. 

Damn, good for Number One. Dallas really rubbed off on him.

Reginald does not seem bothered by this outburst, but Klaus spots a few of the Sparrows, including Not-Ben, shifting their weight. 

“I am certain that none of them will fail me, as you apparently did,”

Luther swallows audibly. 

“My several encounters with you all in Dallas gave me vital insight into how to proceed, and I have taken … precautions for the contrary,” 

Klaus locks eyes with the other Ben. 

Something unidentifiable flashes across his face, before the other man’s gaze flicks above him to where the Cube hangs ominously. 

Yeah, whatever that story is, Klaus is pretty sure it has nothing to do with any newly acquired fathering skills Reginald may have manifested in the last half-century. 

“The predicted end of days has passed us by, and I intend to keep it that way,”

Five steps forward. 

His hands are up, but both sides tense and Not-Ben leans towards him in response

“It doesn’t have to be like that. Time travel is complicated. There are countless variables at play, there are no strict rules, not simple cause to effect,”

He pauses.

“It’s like … Jazz,”

Klaus may imagine it, but Five’s lips quirk slightly on the last word. 

“Think about it. Your changes should have erased us, correct? Yet here we are, hanging on at the fringes, but hanging nonetheless. If we can survive everything that's happened, there may be a way for all of us to continue forward without everything falling to pieces,” 

He holds out his hands.

“We return to our timeline, get our people-,”

Allison straightens.

“-and our lives back, but you all carry on like nothing happened,”

All eyes flick between the two. Not-Ben looks up to his father, and the air buzzes with static as the Cube continues to hover ominously behind him. 

Reginald scoffs. 

“You talk with such authority, but the last time we spoke you could barely make a jump without stranding your family across the time-space continuum or reducing yourself to adolescence,”

Ouch Dad, talk about hitting where it hurts. 

“You know nothing of time in all its infinite nuances, every step you take cracks the very ground on which you walk,” 

Yeesh. 

Five shrugs nonchalantly, but there is tension in his shoulders and Klaus can practically hear the grit of his teeth. 

“Yeah well, I’ve done my homework since then, besides-,”

Five glances back towards Diego

“We have friends in higher, better-informed places,” 

He turns back, but Klaus feels Diego straighten with confidence in response. 

“With their help, we could find a way towards a … temporal compromise. You let us leave, and we’ll do everything we can to ensure you and your new miracle babies carry on in peace,” 

Fives voice steels. 

“No one gets hurt,” 

Silence. Klaus barely dares to breathe. All eyes are on Reginald as he readjusts his tie and leans slightly on his cane. 

Is he considering it? Klaus thinks he can see something resembling interest behind that stupid monocle of his, or maybe in his jaw as it tenses and he adjusts his grip on his cane. 

An eternity seems to pass before Reginald reaches up to his face. He removes the glass and slips it into his waistcoat, wiping it slightly on his breast pocket. 

He looks back to Five. 

“I’m afraid, Sir, I must dismiss your offer,” 

Klaus thinks he might throw up. 

“I cannot allow you and your family to continue, not after everything you have failed to achieve,”

He turns to his left.

“Number One,”

Not-Ben stands to attention.

“Dispose of them,” 

He nods, then turns to the Sparrows. 

“You heard him,” 

Klaus has enough time to allow a quick _oh crap_ to run across his thoughts before he sucks in a breath. 

The Sparrows lunge forward. 

Before the reach the centre, Five hurtles around to face his family. 

“Allison, NOW!”

Allison lets go of Klaus’ arm and steps forward. She takes a steadying breath, smiles and holds out her hands. 

“ _I heard a Rumour that -,_ ”

A flash of purple ricochets across the room. Allison stops, choking on her words and crying out as she grabs her head in pain. 

Klaus immediately grabs her shoulders and follows her eyes to see a dark-haired man with wild eyes grin, reaching out with glowing hands. The man is immediately knocked back by a pulse of white, and the two Academies meet in the middle. 

Oh fuck. 

Klaus feels a tug on his left and he is thrown backwards. He moves, on instinct, to lash back, only to see Diego lock eyes with him. His brother nods wordlessly to Allison before lunging at the approaching Sparrows. 

Right, message received. 

Klaus wraps his arms around Allison’s shoulders and pulls her behind him into the porch nook. 

She’s gasping and struggling for breath, with lines of purple wrapping around her throat and her eyes ringed with streaks of violet. She stares, unseeing, straight ahead, but her face is creased with horror. 

Klaus watches as his sister mouths wordlessly with tears streaming down her face and pulls her head down as something collides with the wall behind them. Whatever that guy has done, he’s taken their only peaceful solution out of action. Klaus tries to pull her close to him as he listens to his siblings jump straight into battle.

“Allison? Ally can you hear me? Whatever you’re seeing it's not real it's gonna be okay all right its-,”

He’s cut off by a yell, followed by an almighty CRASH. 

Klaus immediately pokes his head out from behind his hiding place. 

It’s chaos. His family are fighting for their lives. 

The first thing Klaus latches on to is a violent flash of blue. After blinking, he realises its Five. He’s jumping faster than he’s ever seen him, desperately trying to keep up with that woman, the wall walking one. What was her name? Dominica. 

Every time Klaus thinks Five has a hit, she slips back through solid brick, and Five has to stop before he follows her and gets stuck in the wall. Five narrowly avoids a kick to the head, before he jumps above her to land on her shoulders. She slips through the floor, and Five falls hard on his ankle, hissing out an inventive curse. 

Diego runs straight past him, moving his hands to his belt as he flings three knives at the Sparrow lunging behind him with deadly accuracy. He smirks as they curve towards the young man’s face, only for his face to fall as their target throws his hands up in response. 

Diego’s knives turn back to face him, along with several other small, sharp and distinctly metallic objects and start to hurtle towards his chest. Diego barely manages to deflect them in time, before he rolls under the central table to safety. 

Meanwhile, Vanya takes on the brunt. She hovers above the fight, sending out wave after wave of pure sound at her opponents, only to find herself met with competing pulses of purple and yellow. Looks like the Cube has a few tricks up its sleeve, crackling with electricity that makes the air vibrate with static, while Allison’s attacker grins as he throws out as much purple light as he can muster. 

That’s left Luther on the ground, throwing whatever strength he had both at his sibling’s attackers and the final Sparrow. She’s small and unassuming, but as she curls her fists the windows darken, only to shatter as hundreds of screeching black birds hurtle towards their Number One. Luther stumbles back, doing his best to swat them away. But Klaus can barely see him through the swarm of beaks and feathers.

Reginald and his own Number One stand above it all, the Monocle himself calm and collected in the face of the chaos beneath them. Klaus wonders why he’s not sent the Horrors out yet, but he supposes even in their timeline they were always encouraged to save Ben for last. 

Klaus guesses that despite the calm, collected vibes he desperately tries to put out, that not even this stuck up sociopath has enough control not to cause an even bigger mess than was already unfolding in the academy lobby. Instead, Not-Ben seems content to watch from the sidelines. Klaus half expects him to take a book out of his pocket. 

Klaus sits back behind the wall and exhales, gripping his hand around Allison’s as he runs his thumb across her knuckles. 

They’re completely outnumbered.

Shit they are so screwed. 

There are seven Sparrows up against six Umbrellas, let alone one of them is out of action and the other is completely useless in a fight. What the actual hell are they going to do?

Wait, hang on. 

There are seven Sparrows, how come he only counted six when he-?

“Hello there,” 

Klaus looks up. 

Shit. 

It’s the ponytail woman again. She’s standing above him, her gloved hands resting lightly on her hips with a disinterested smile drawn across her face. 

“Sorry about the wait, I promise it will be quick,”

She goes to tug off her gloves with a sigh, kneeling down a few feet away from them both. 

“I’d hold still if I were you,”

She reaches out her hand to Klaus’ throat. 

Oh god no.

Klaus throws an arm across Allison, still blind and gagged and completely unaware of what's happening around her. He goes to kick, but it glances off her and she kicks back in response, smirking slightly at his efforts.

Oh no.

He needs help, shit he needs his siblings, he needs anyone please you have to help us _please-_

He opens his mouth to cry out, only for a ball of ice drops in his gut and it _pulls_

The woman gasps.

Before Klaus knows it, a hand grabs his assailant by her hair and pulls her away. The woman falls backwards and lands hard, as she tries to turn and scramble to her feet. 

Sorry, what? 

Klaus looks up, only to see a man standing over him. He can’t see his face, but he’s tall, wearing a knitted vest and dark trousers, and he’s bathed in a pale blue glow. A very familiar glow actually. 

Klaus glances down, finding his hands wreathed in the same, cold light. 

Neat. 

He looks back up to see his protector with one hand on his hip and the other pointed accusingly. The young woman lies beneath him with wide eyes and an open mouth. 

She goes to speak, only to be cut off by an enormous crunch. 

Klaus looks round, only to duck back. 

Luther blindly grabs for the nearest piece of furniture he can find to throw at his attacker, only for a huge bookcase to come flying towards the front door.

He grabs Allison and throws his body over her, pressing her back into the wall. 

The other woman jumps too, but unfortunately, she picked the wrong direction. 

It hits the wall with an almighty CRACK. 

Klaus turns to see the bookshelf strewn across the front door, and he hears a pair of fists pounding against the wood. She’s trapped in the doorway, and Klaus is pretty there's no way she’s getting out of there for the minute. 

Thanks Luther, Klaus knew he could count on him. 

He looks back to the figure above him, whose light has faded as he turns to look down at him. 

“Well, that’s no way to treat the upholstery,”

…. okay?

It's the old man from behind the bar. His brows are furrowed as he examines the damage to the doorway, before he bends down, smiling slightly, to look Klaus in the eyes. 

“It’s a travesty to be involved in such vandalism, what would my Margaret say?”

Klaus doesn’t know. He decides to mind his manners instead. 

“Uh … thank you?”

The old man shrugs, waving his hands dismissively, still eyeing the antique bookshelf with disdain. There’s no visible sign of injury on him, and he’s dressed in what Klaus can sum up as “old-timey fashion”. There's a pair of horn-rimmed glasses hanging off his collar. 

“Oh, don’t mention it. It’s a shame such a wonderful antique had to go to waste though,” 

He sighs, mournfully. 

Alrighty then.

Klaus nods, not sure what to make of him, before turning back to his sister. He pulls her upright and pushes her hair back from her face. 

She’s quieter now, but still completely detached from reality. Klaus looks her straight in the eyes but gets nothing in response. Whatever the purple dude’s powers were, Klaus decides it’s best to steer clear. He’s clearly gotten right inside her head.

He goes back to speak to his rescuer, but his attention is immediately garnered by a sudden CRACK. Klaus looks down to see the floor beneath him starting to fracture, then the walls around him beginning to shake. 

He peeks around the wall again. 

The room is split in half, Umbrellas to the left, Sparrows to the right. Above the fight where Five, Luther and Diego take the ground force, Vanya floats high above them. Her skin is like snow, her eyes aflame with white and her hair encircling her like a halo. Her hands are outstretched, she throws every ounce of energy at the Cube, two spheres of colour clashing in a dazzling ring of light. 

She grits her teeth, the air vibrating around her, before pushing out with a yell. 

The chandelier explodes, glass splinters raining down from the sky as those below stop to shield their eyes. 

The force continues to resonate, and soon Klaus is pulled away from the wall as cracks spread up from the ground into the plaster. 

He grabs his sister as he moves, leaning back into the cool grip of his ghostly saviour as he watches, open-mouthed, as the entire side of the room falls away. 

The cube flies through the new opening, crashing into the space above the fireplace as the rest of the fighters stagger to maintain their stance. They stand in silence for a moment as Vanya pauses, each looking up at the ceiling as they wait for it to come crashing down. 

A beat. 

And another. 

The ghost behind him gasps, his hand coming up to his mouth.

The roof holds. 

They launch back into action. Luther kicks the Crow-girl into the newly cleared space behind her, while Five grabs Dominica and jumps her through into the living room. Diego runs to follow, while Reginald and Ben take a leisurely stroll to maintain their view. 

Klaus catches his breath. 

That’s their hiding place ruined. He needs to move Allison to safety. 

He kneels forward and goes to grab under her armpits, but struggles as her head rolls. She’s practically dead-weight like this, he can’t carry her on his own. 

Lucky he has just the man for the job. 

“Hey uh - sorry what's your name?”

The man smiles, obviously pleased to be introduced.

“I am Clarence, Clarence Regen,”

“Hi Clarence. Sorry to ask, but I don’t suppose you could give me a lift could you?” 

Klaus gestures to his sister. Clarence nods. 

“it would be my pleasure. It is probably best to move before my beautiful house falls on top of us, don’t you think?” 

Huh, that’s fresh intel. Klaus will have to save questions for later. 

Instead he hooks his arms under Allison’s armpits and throws her elbow over his shoulder. Clarence moves to do the same, Klaus clenches his stomach, and the cool flow drips down his arms as they bring his sister to her feet. 

Right, where are they going? Now the wall is gone, they can see right through to the living room, and Klaus zeros in on the bar, but not for the usual reason. It’s close to the outside wall, and he’s pretty sure when Vanya last destroyed the mansion that part of the building was still standing. 

Better than nothing. 

He waits till he’s sure the Sparrows are occupied, and they quickly drag his sister’s limp form to the next room. They drop her right where he was crouched not fifteen minutes ago, and Klaus takes a second to let out a shuddering breath.The fight is raging on behind him, and as various pieces of furniture and antiques crash and bang against the walls, Klaus resists the urge to bring his hands to his ears. 

God it's just so loud. He forgot how noisy all this superhero business could be. It’s no good for his blood pressure, nor the tremors rattling through his hands.

It doesn’t help that the Sparrow’s ghosts seem aware of what's going on.

They’re still detached, separate from the living world, but they follow their killers with great interest in the continuing violence. The clash between the sounds of the living and the dead is disorientating at best, maddening at worst. As their incoherent moans and wails mix in with his siblings' shouts and grunts, Klaus is suddenly struck by just how helpless he really feels. 

How they hell are they going to get out of this? 

He breathes in and out through his nose and opens his eyes. 

Clarence is there, but he doesn’t seem that interested in Klaus right this second. Instead, he’s looking mournfully at the pile of bricks to his right, and he sighs to himself. 

“I always knew that Hargreeves scoundrel was no good,”

Huh, okay?

“Said it the day he turned up to buy the place. My father built it with his own hands, and when he made my son the offer he promised he'd take care of it,” 

Cool story, dude. Klaus is a little busy to listen at the moment. 

“I mean, look at this-,” 

He gestures to the intricate plaster detail crumbled at his feet. 

“- the mastery, the workmanship? And he allows it to fall into ruin without a care in the world,” 

Yeah yeah, the injustice of it all. Sorry dude, Klaus was never one for architecture thanks. 

Hang on though, wait a second.

That’s a point actually. 

Klaus pokes his head above the counter, and he can just make out Reginald’s calm visage as he stands with his hands resting atop his cane, with Not-Ben lingering at his side. 

He doesn’t seem perturbed by his precious mansion falling to the ground. His focus is fixed on the ensuing battle, with not even a raised eyebrow at the state of his precious home base.

Klaus thinks of the photos, the portraits, the trophies hung on the walls that god forbid the children touched when he was not in the room.

Klaus thinks back to all the stray gouges Diego made in the centre pillars and the cracks in Luther’s bedroom door when he accidentally slammed it too hard. 

There’d been hell to pay back then for “ _disrespecting the integrity of the house_ ”. It makes Klaus shudder just to recollect. 

But now? Reginald looks on almost cheerfully, not that Hargreeves has ever been anything close to cheerful, as his two sets of adopted children absolutely wreck the place. 

Maybe he never cared about the house at all, and simply was looking for something else to torture his children with. 

Maybe he’s so determined to wipe them out, a little future DIY is low on his agenda.

Or maybe he knows that, once he finishes this, he may never need to worry about his house ever again. What’s the point of the academy, of his entire superhero scheme, if he’s finally stopped the end of the world and eliminated the last serious threat to his authority? Who needs superheroes, when the last apparently enhanced enemy to face is dead at his feet?

Okay, that's not a nice thought. 

Klaus turns back to Allison. Her voice is slowly returning, but it's hoarse, barely above a whisper, and she’s muttering to herself. 

“ _-Claire baby mommy’s coming I’m sorry Ray I didn’t want to leave you No wait leave them alone Vanya no I-,_ ”

Klaus rubs her shoulder and places his hand on her face. She can’t see him, but maybe the fact she can speak is a good sign? 

“Hey Ally it’s alright, it's just me,”

She leans into his touch. Klaus keeps going.

“Yeah that’s right,”

He winces as something collides with the bar, the stacks of glasses either side him crashing to the ground. 

He’s running out of time. He turns back to his sister. 

“Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real okay? It’s not real. You gotta come back to us Ally we really need you we-,”

Another CRASH. 

Klaus keeps one hand on Allison’s shoulder but looks back over the countertop. He blinks, trying to clear his vision of the dead and focus on the living. He shakes his head then zeros in on his brothers. 

Diego and Luther are back to back, with Five popping in and out of view behind them. Luther swings his fists, and Diego directs the onslaught of blades from the magnet dude. He catches the latest volley, before spinning them around him, cutting through the flock of birds behind him and knocking a third of them to the floor. 

Luther turns on his heel, picking up the nearest couch and launching it across the room, knocking Diego’s attacking Sparrow backwards. He crashes headfirst into a pillar, and lies, motionless but breathing, trapped under the couch. 

That’s 2-1 to the Umbrellas. Now they’re almost even. Hah!

Klaus continues to watch over the top, before something cold nudges into his side.

Clarence points to the left.

“Look, see there? As if he’s not content with all this madness, now he’s letting the real monster loose,”

What?

Klaus follows Clarence’s finger and curses.

It seems Reginald has clocked their numbers too. He runs his eyes over the scene, before turning to his side. 

He nods.

Not-Ben nods back, and steps forward.

Oh fuck no. 

The rest of the team haven’t noticed this development. As Klaus frantically looks across the room, his siblings are too caught up in the fight. In fact, most of their backs are turned. 

Oh no no no. 

Klaus tries to shout, calling across the room to get their attention. As Diego hurtles across the carpet, throwing whatever he can at the Crow-girl, Klaus madly waves in his direction.

But the room is too loud, even without the ghostly din only Klaus can hear. The scene is too alive with motion for Klaus’ pathetic attempts to even raise an eyebrow. They’re none the wiser to what’s about to happen. 

Shit what’s he gonna do.

He looks back to his left, and Not-Ben is striding across the room. His hands linger on the bottom of his vest, and his eyes have zeroed in. Klaus follows his gaze, only to freeze. 

He’s heading right towards Diego.

No fucking way. 

Klaus isn’t a fighter. He never has been, no matter how much his daddy brainwashed him as a kid. There’s a reason he was told to watch Allison, his siblings don’t and never will expect him to jump into the fray. It’s just how it is.

But there’s no fucking way he’s letting this happen. Not when he can see it coming. 

He can’t win, he knows what’s next once he leaves his hiding spot.

He also knows that wherever he ends up, there’s no guarantee it’ll work out for him. The little girl doesn’t seem the type to do favours, and how sure is he really what happened on the dancefloor will happen again?

But maybe if he can get his attention, buy them some time? Watch their backs.

He’s the damned look out, after all. 

He glances back to Clarence, whose tutting as Luther slams into an ornate glass cabinet. 

“Can you watch her, please? Keep talking to her for me? About anything, she loves a good set of curtains, real decor enthusiast, just keep her present, please, if you can?”

He lets the ice in his stomach tug.

“ _Please?_ ”

Clarence blinks. 

“Of course,”

Klaus nods and squeezes Allison’s hand. 

Ben’s halfway there, he has to hurry.

Shit.

Shit this is dumb. 

He crawls around the bar and rolls up onto his knees. >He feels behind him, before his palms settle on something cool and smooth.

He curls his hand around a very fragile looking crystal bottle of very expensive whiskey. 

Only the best for daddy dearest.

He rises to his feet and, without thinking, hurls it at Not-Ben’s head.

It shatters against his skull.

He blinks and staggers for a moment before he turns towards Klaus with a snarl. Blood trickles down the side of his head as his attention focuses on his new prey. 

“You,”

Here we go, time for his best smile now. 

Klaus winks and shrugs.

“Sorry buddy, no can do. I’m afraid we’re all allergic to shellfish,” 

Not-Ben smiles.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,”

The fight continues to rage on around him, with yet another knife sailing past his head, but everything seems to dull, as if behind a sheet of glass.

No, a veil. 

Not-Ben steps towards him and begins to circle. 

“You know you can’t win this. You and your siblings are outmatched,”

Klaus holds his hands up and shakes his head, standing still as the other man moves around him. 

“I don’t know, we’ve got two of your guys so far,”

“Maybe so, but I think you know what I’m capable of,”

He smiles. 

“You know exactly what my talents are,”

He’s got him there. 

“Yeah well, worth a shot either way,”

“I don’t think it is,”

Not-Ben walks slowly, and Klaus feels like the world has narrowed, his entire body caught inside the other man’s gaze. He’s trapped at the eye of the storm, the fight swirling around him as the chaos locks him at the centre. He has nowhere to go

Fuck. 

“Ben!”

Diego.

“Ben please, don’t do this okay? Please don’t do this,”

Klaus can’t help it

“It’s not Ben, Di,”

He keeps his head forwards but holds a hand out to the side [GOODBYE].

“But he can’t it’s not-,”

Klaus shakes his head, flicking his eyes across to Diego, whose foot is held against the metal dude’s throat

“It’s not our Ben, you’ve gotta understand that Di, it’s not him,”

“You should listen to him,”

The Sparrow smiles, baring his teeth, like a shark staring out behind aquarium glass, his eyes cold and dull.

And hungry. 

“He’s right. I am not your brother," 

He leans in, almost conspiratorially.

“I think I’d say I’m an improvement, though, much more …. resilient,”

He pauses in his stalking.

“Yes I’m afraid I’m not the brother you lost-,“

He steps forward. 

“-The brother you betrayed-,”

Another step.

“-The brother that you failed so miserably, you might as well have _killed him yourself_ ,”

He keeps his eyes locked on Klaus, but he raises his voice over the din. 

“I can’t imagine what that was like? Did it hurt? When you watched him suffer? When you buried him? When you couldn’t _save him?_ ”

Klaus hears Diego splutter.

He glances to the left and frowns sympathetically as he watches his brother's lips tremble, desperate to form a rebuttal that would not come.

Reginald stands to the side, a slight upturn on his lips. He’s trained them for this. He knows their weaknesses, where it hurts. He’s taught them where to punch, and thanks to Klaus, they’d just learnt how to hit right in the jugular. 

The rest of the room has slowed now, the fighting held at a stalemate as the Sparrows watched their leader, and the Umbrella’s their liability, stare each other down.

“Ben please-,“

That’s Vanya. Sweet, kind, deadly Vanya. 

“Ben, we can come to an arrangement”

That’s Five, always the pragmatist. 

“Ben it’s us you have to-,“

“It’s not him Luther,”

Klaus raises his hands to shush them, to try and spare them the agony he could barely relieve for himself.

“It’s not Ben. Whatever happens, you have to understand that it’s not our brother,”

Why can’t they understand, when it’s so painfully, excruciatingly clear to him. 

The sooner they get it, the better chance they have at ending this.

Without him.

Ben holds up his palm, his other hand reaching for his shirt. 

“Hush now,”

“You’ve been very helpful Klaus, but Father is right. Now you’ve brought your family to us, your use has come to an end,”

In the corner of his eyes, Klaus thinks he can see Reginald smile, but he has eyes only for Ben. 

No, not Ben. 

It’s never going to be Ben. 

The other man flicks his gaze to the Umbrellas. 

“I’d stay back if I were all of you, I’ll get to you in a moment,”

He turns back to Klaus.

“Right now, I have some pest control to deal with,”

The Sparrow pulls up his vest. 

For a moment, Klaus wishes for someone to come. 

For his siblings to snap out of it, to pull him out of danger like he never thought they would. 

For Dave, to shove him out of reach and hold him tight in his arms.

For Ben, the real Ben, to appear at his elbow with an eye roll and a smile, ready to save the day like he always did. 

Maybe, if the little girl upstairs plays along, even if he doesn’t get his way, he can at least say-

He feels it pool down in his gut. 

It fills him up, takes over his chest and rises into his throat. 

It has no direction, no sense of purpose or command, it’s raw and untapped and has nowhere to go.

This icy river, this inhuman chill starts to trickle down his arms, through his muscles and into his bones. 

But it doesn’t make it to his hands. Not before something _erupts_ from the other man’s chest.

Before something huge and unreal and unimaginably strong wraps around his middle, thrusting his skinny frame aloft. 

Klaus can’t breathe, he can’t see, he can’t _move_.

He dimly thinks he hears a shout, maybe it’s Five, Diego perhaps.

Something flies past his head, a flash of blue grates across his eyes and a thundering BANG echoes above him. 

It doesn’t matter.

They’re too late. 

Klaus is flying, soaring through the air. 

That’s new, he thinks, he's never flown before. 

It’s quite fun, who needs gravity anyway. 

He wonders when he’ll land. 

Something _tears_ across his gut. 

Something _solid_ hits his neck.

Something _cracks_

…

…

…

…

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... sorry...
> 
> feel free to shout at me in the comments below ;)


	9. Heaven Won't Take Me Back

Ow. 

Klaus groans and blinks, his eyes adjusting to the sudden light. He leans back and gasps as his skull knocks against something hard and twisted behind him. Lifting his head with a sickening crunch he leans forward, bringing his hand up to touch his skull. His vision clears, and sure enough, he is greeted by a landscape of grey. 

Fantastic.

He’s back on that winding country lane, the stony path stretching either side of him. This time, however, he’s propped up against a towering oak tree off to the side on a grassy verge. There are rickety fence posts pitched across from him that disappear off into the distant left and right. 

Well, here we are again. 

Klaus goes to stand, grunting as he rises to his feet and stretching up tall. He dimly notes that he’s matching the scenery’s colour scheme too. He winces at the phantom pains shooting across his spine and through his stomach, despite his skin appearing unbroken, smooth and clean.

He scans up and down the path. Last time the welcome wagon had been prompt, so he listens out for the sound of a tinny bell and squeaking brakes.

Klaus waits a few moments, straining to hear over the rustling leaves and gentle breeze, only to be left with silence. 

Huh, alright then. What does that mean? 

Last time, her divine loveliness was quite determined to tell him to get off her lawn.

If she’s not coming now, what gives?

Wait.

Does that mean he can stay?

Huh.

Klaus is pretty sure he should have some kind of strong feeling about that. 

He’s not relieved. It’s a bit inconvenient to be quite honest, he was in the middle of doing stuff down there. After his little speech to Reggie, it would be nice to prove himself right and all that. 

But honestly? It’s probably fine. It's not like he was contributing anything important. 

Klaus looks around again, lifting his arms as if to ask the final question. 

Is this it? 

Is he done?

A clear silence. 

Okay then. So what should he do now? 

Klaus turns on the spot. He can’t see beyond the fences either side of him, and the path disappears into the distance with no end in sight. 

Well, he might as well get to know the place. 

Klaus looks left and right and chooses right. 

As he wanders down the lane, he closes his eyes and inhales, deep. 

It’s blissfully quiet here. It’s a welcome relief after the chaos he just flew in from. There’s nothing but the gentle rustling of the leafy trees and the soft crunch of gravel under his feet. 

But there’s something else too. It buzzes under his skin, a euphoria. It’s almost like a good hit, but warmer, _clearer._ It’s welcoming and soft, settling on his shoulders like a woollen blanket or a brand new jacket, and makes the back of his neck tingle. 

He hadn’t clocked this feeling last time he came here, to be fair he was a little preoccupied back then, but it's pleasant nonetheless. Klaus could get used to it. 

There’s no one he can see, no animals, or birds even. But he is aware of something, some presence in the air. He can’t put it into better words than it feels ‘inhabited'. Like despite all the evidence that he is by himself, Klaus doesn’t feel alone. 

Weird. 

Before he has a chance to ponder this further, Klaus comes to a fork in the road. 

Two paths twist in opposite directions, their ends obscured from view. 

The one to his left leads into the woods, surrounded by dark, knotted trees and thick, lush bushes. The air feels heavy and smells like heat, and mud and motor oil, and it sends familiar shivers down Klaus’ spine. 

To his right, the path clears into bright, open sky. Klaus can just make out grassy dunes, and the gentle wafts of salty air and clean breeze. 

He has to make a choice. 

Again, Klaus checks the perimeter for the little girl, but no one comes to explain. 

Shit, he doesn’t know. What gives with the puzzles?

Alright, think. 

Klaus wishes he has a coin to flip. But instead he taps his fingers on his coat, lingering at the fork in the road 

As he stands there he lets that unfamiliar tingle rest against his skin, its breath cool and making the hairs on stand on end. Something inside him, an sense, an instinct, pokes at his thoughts. 

It’s gotta be worth a try, right? 

He reaches into an unknown part of himself, the one that seems to becoming more and more trustworthy the longer he holds it in his mind’s eye, and listens. 

Where does he want to go?

He inhales. 

He grits his teeth. 

Something pulls. 

Something strong, and firm and _familiar_ tugs back. 

Yes. 

Okay then. 

Klaus goes right. 

The trail has opened up, and Klaus finds himself ambling down an open, windswept path.

Black blades of grass fade into white grains of sand that disappear into lapping gentle waves. The route is lined with a row of painted beach huts, old fashioned like you might see in vintage movies, decorated with what Klaus assumes should be bright and whimsical colours. 

Klaus slows down at the edge of the grass to take in the view. The water glitters with dappled sunlight, and Klaus blinks as the sea air flows into his lungs, tasting salt on his lips. 

Klaus stops at the edge of the sandbank and flops gracefully to sit on the ground, with his legs crossed beneath him.

What is this place supposed to be? If it's _heaven_ , or whatever, it’s not what Klaus expected. To be fair, he’s not really sure what his paradise would even look like (and doesn’t that just say everything). 

He runs his hands across the grass and takes in the quiet. 

No, this isn’t what he had pegged for his eternal resting place. 

You know who’d love it though? 

The ground crunches behind him.

Klaus doesn’t have to move. 

He knows exactly who it is. 

“Look who decided to show up,” 

They walk beside him, as Klaus stares straight ahead, crouching down to sit across from his spot on the sand, their legs stretched out over the side of the dune. From the corner of his eye, Klaus makes out black boots over black jeans, and the cuffs of a stiff leather jacket. Their hands sit folded in their lap, with their elbows resting on their knees. 

They nod their head. 

“Been a while,”

Klaus nods back. 

Ben smiles. 

His face is clean-shaven and his hair is slicked back. His eyes are clear and soft, and he leans slightly on one arm, tilting his head to the side. His posture is relaxed and open, and he’s looking Klaus up and down with light curiosity and a curve on his lips that reaches his eyes. 

He looks good.

He looks really good. 

Klaus doesn’t know what to do next. Thankfully, his body chooses for him.

He jabs his long lost brother right in the arm. 

“Ow!”

Ben jerks back, his expression twisting into confusion, then annoyance, then incredulous disbelief. 

“What was that for?”

To be honest? Klaus isn’t sure. He hasn’t fully registered the action, nor the words that come out next.

“Sorry I, uh, I don’t, uh … gut instinct?”

Ben frowns, then sputters out a laugh. 

“Some instinct,”

“Well I don’t know, do I?”

Ben rubs his upper arm. 

“That’s gonna leave a mark, asshole,”

Klaus scoffs. 

“Oh shut up, you can’t bruise in heaven. It’s against the prime directive or whatever.” 

Ben shakes his head. 

“You’re such a prick,” 

Klaus shrugs. 

“Hey, gimme a break. I just died, I’m on edge,”

He’s not really, but Ben still looks up. His face shifts into something like pity, before looking him up and down. 

“Yeah shit, uh … sorry about that,” 

Klaus shrugs. 

“No big deal, it happens sometimes, you know how it is,” 

Yeah, Ben does know. He was there in the club. And all those times before, when Klaus miraculously got right back up after a nasty knock to the head or one pill too many. 

He still has the grace to wince in sympathy, though. That’s nice. 

_It’s really him._

“So, how’d it happen?” 

Oh nu-uh. Klaus shakes his head, tearing his eyes away from his brother, _from Ben_ to pick at the grass around his feet. 

“You know me, always getting into scrapes. A little death is bound to get me sooner or later,”

It sounds unconvincing even to his own ears. Ben leans forward but doesn’t press further. Klaus isn’t sure if that's a good thing or not, and it leaves them dangling in an awkward pause. 

That sort of thing was never unusual between the two of them. Seventeen years left plenty of room for the silent treatment, active ignorance or even just quiet comfort in the empty space. 

But here it felt strange, the air so thick you could cut it right down the centre. Like something is hanging down between them. 

As always, Klaus decides to talk first. 

“So, you are here then?”

Ben tilts his head. 

“Where else would I be?”

Klaus shrugs.

“Well, I don’t know. You’re far too much of a goody-two-shoes for the other place-,” Klaus illustrates this with an absent wave towards the ground, “- but I don’t know, with all the timeline, evil twin BS, I wasn’t sure where she’d stick you,”

Ben’s brow creases and his mouth falls open. 

“Sorry, what?”

Oh, yeah. 

Ben might be a bit out of the loop. 

“Oh my dear sweet Benny, a lot’s been happening since you kicked it for good,”

Klaus throws his head back, leaning forward to draw his feet back under him and huffs out a laugh.

“Do allow me to explain!”

Klaus leans back. Okay, where to begin? 

“Right, so, in a nutshell? Vanya’s sort of kid almost blew us up, and after all your hard work too! Diego’s not-girlfriend and Five’s old boss tried to murder us all, we time-travelled to the future but guess what!”

Klaus leans forward, semi-conspiratorially. 

“Remember our little rendezvous with dad? Well he decided it was enough to un adopt us for good, ended up in a whole other timeline with a whole new set of super freaks under his belt,”

Klaus swallows, ignoring the bewilderment across Ben’s face. 

“Oh, I almost forgot-”, he hadn’t but he was trying to “- the new super team’s leader? Well, who could it be but, wait for it, you dearest brother!”

Ben chokes. 

“Now I know you’re joking,” 

“Nu-uh. Cross my heart. Whole new Number Six, except this time you’re Number One, with, let me say, much worse taste in hair, my god-.” 

Klaus leans back on his palms, keeping his back straight and his eyes fixed steadily on the horizon. 

“So yeah, they’ve been on our tail the last few months. We were doing fine, till they very rudely invited me over for dinner without asking, and without dinner as a matter of fact. Lemme tell you, Ben, that lot has some _very angry ghosts_ following them around, boy do they have a bone to pick, you know what I mean? And they don’t even have bones!”

Klaus rolls his shoulders.

“So yeah, I weasel my way out with my wit and charm, turns out you ghosties aren’t so hard to boss about once you know where to poke, the rest of the Brady bunch came to grab me, heroic fight scene ensues and voila-,”

Klaus waves his right hand [HELLO].

“Here I am!”

He flicks his eyes back to his brother, who seems in the midst of processing all this. Klaus tries to smile, but instead, he keeps his focus on Ben. His Ben, the _real Ben_ he-

“So what, you got caught in the crossfire or something?”

Klaus stiffens. Unconsciously his hand comes to rest on his neck. 

“Yeah, something like that,”

He resolutely keeps his eyes away from Ben’s stomach. Let’s push that down right now, thanks very much. 

Ben hums. 

“To be honest I’m just impressed you didn’t fall down a sewer drain or something,”

Hey now, that’s twice he’s been accused of that. What gives? 

His brother shakes his head with a smirk but abruptly becomes serious.

“So, you met an alternate version of me, and thought, what? I might have been erased entirely?”

Klaus shrugs. To be honest, he’d been trying not to think about it. 

“Yeah, I guess. I know jack shit about time travel, but I figured after all we changed, we might have done some real damage, you know?” 

Klaus looks around, then back to his brother.

“Guess the little madam is a little more thorough about the whole dead thing than I thought, accounts for Five and his ex-colleagues meddling, or whatever,”

Ben tilts his head, and Klaus can see the cogs turning behind his eyes. He brother frowns, then opens his mouth.

“I don’t know, maybe time or whatever is different here. Perhaps it’s not a case of how or who dies, but when and where? And there’s like infinite versions of every dead person hanging around?”

“Or-”

Okay Ben, feel free to keep going. Klaus is totally following. 

“Maybe it's like a perspective thing? Like, you know I’m dead, so you can find me here, or something? Like Schrodinger’s cat, you remember when I told you about that? Simultaneously both existing and not in the main timeline, until you perceive me, or one of you remembers me, or something,”

Maybe. Fuck if Klaus knows, this feels like much more of a conundrum for Five if he’s honest. 

Ben ponders a little more before something else occurs to him. 

“What’s he like, anyway? The other me?”

Oh, dear. Here we go. Klaus plasters on a shoddy grin and tries to muster up as much casual indifference as he can. 

“Oh you know, the same face, different baggage. Dude has issues, a real asshole. He's a proper daddy’s boy, and by proxy, he’s a proper sadist,”

Again, his hands drift to his neck and he can’t suppress a shudder. But then he smiles, and gently nudges his brother’s arm, feeling a little thrill as it makes subtle contact with his jacket sleeve. 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about though, Benny boy,”

He winks. 

“Nothing beats the original, you know?”

Ben laughs, and suddenly Klaus feels the world _shift_.

He blinks, only to find they’re not where they were. 

Instead of rolling sand and glittering waves, Klaus and Ben sit perched on a shabby couch, surrounded by row upon row of towering grey shelves. 

They’re in a library. Actually, it's a very specific library. 

From the stuffy smell of paper and plastic covers, not to mention the flickering light fixtures, the peeling murals and the large suspicious stain on the carpet, they’re in the City Community Centre. 

Well, how about that.

To add to it all, Klaus is not wearing the clothes he died in. 

Instead, he clocks with glee, he’s wearing his coat, _the coat_. The one with the dark patches and furry lining. It sits over a vest top and his leather pants, and his nails are filled with chipped dark paint. On his feet are his ratty sneakers, which has a lighter and an emergency $20 stuffed in the heel, in case he runs out of cigarettes or needs a pick-me-up on his way out. 

It’s like they’ve gone back in time. About ten years in fact. Klaus would often wander in here in the winter months to keep out of the cold. The librarian didn’t mind how long he stayed so long as he didn’t light a blunt in the bathroom or piss on the floor. There was a free water fountain and a vending machine, it was open pretty much 24 hours, and it had as many books as Ben could ever want. 

Klaus would find a corner, _this corner_ to be precise, and stick on his walkman as Ben pointed him to the nearest shelf. Obeying his brother’s commands, Klaus would open the chosen novel out on the seat next to him, turning the pages every so often when instructed. 

If Ben has picked up on the change of scenery, he hasn’t mentioned it. In fact, he’s barely blinked, and continuing on their conversation like nothing happened. 

Okay, maybe it’s just a heaven thing. Klaus takes it in his stride. 

“I’m glad to hear it,”

They have the room to themselves, but like the country path, Klaus feels something else echoing off the walls. It’s not threatening, just _there_ , a presence behind them that breathes a little down his neck. 

“You kept all that quiet though,”

Klaus blinks. 

“Pardon me?”

Ben gestures with his hands. 

“The time travel, the Sparrows, the other me? You never thought to bring that up?” 

Klaus frowns. 

“What do you mean bring it up, I just did?”

Ben rolls his eyes, then reaches into his pocket. 

“What the hell are these then?”

Klaus watches, confused, as Ben pulls out a stack of papers. They’re small, about the size of Ben’s palms, with glossy photographs printed on one side. 

Ben hesitates for a second, then hands them over. 

They’re postcards, Klaus realises. There’s about fifty in total, with folded creases and faded edges. They’re tied up with a length of string, for some reason, and he carefully slips it over the edges to unwrap Ben’s strange gift. 

As Klaus brings them closer for inspection, his mouth falls open. 

The first card depicts a dark cityscape, with orange lights glimmering against towering buildings. It’s taken from a cluttered rooftop, with the camera peering over the ledge. Klaus turns the paper over and finds the back inscribed with a handwritten note. 

The text is flowing cursive, and it reads; 

_Dear Ben,_

_Your brother says he stands by shaving off your fifteen-year-old moustache. He says it would only have gotten worse, or something like that? I don’t know what it means, but I hope you get this nonetheless!_

_Christine x_

Stunned, Klaus turns over the next one. It shows a restaurant exterior, decorated with bright lights and leafy greens, and on the other side it reads; 

_Dear Ben,_

_Klaus wanted you to know that your youngest brother has yet to remove his school uniform despite all encouragement. Klaus believes you should reimburse him for $5. How you can manage that, I am unsure, but there you go._

_Kind regards,_

_Mrs Maria Hyde_

Klaus turns the next one, and the next one after that. Each card shows a different photo, endless reels of park benches, gas station parking lots and side alley dumpsters. The backs are scribbled with a few lines, and Klaus reads back every thought, wish and prayer he sent to the other side over the last few months, each signed off with a familiar name. 

He looks back up to his brother, who's staring at him hard. 

“What - I? How?”

Ben shrugs. 

“I don’t know,”

Klaus traces the paper’s edges. 

“Where’d they come from? Did you meet them or-?”

Ben shakes his head.

“No nothing like that. They just started showing up after a while. I’d feel, I don’t know, cold I guess? I don’t know, I’d feel _something_ and I found them in here-,”

He pats his left pocket. 

Huh. 

Klaus continues to thumb through, pausing to read the very last one;

_Dear Ben,_

_Your brother Klaus wanted you to know some people called Vanya and Allison are trying to get someone called Diego a haircut? Klaus wants you to know they’re losing the fight because, I quote, “despite his blade fetish, he’s a stubborn ass if they get near his head”. He wants me to assure you that “Allison can play that game” and “they’re holding the line for now”._

_Thanks,_

_Peter_

Klaus smiles, before going all the way back to the beginning.

He runs his index finger over Christine’s signature and trails it across the white space in between. It’s a shame they didn’t hand over whatever these were in person, Ben would like the fellow poetry nerd a lot. She has to be around here somewhere. He imagines her, sitting in one of her fancy cafes drinking infinite chai, diligently writing the note for him with a fancy fountain pen or something, and sending it on its way. 

Is that how it worked? Or is far more complicated than that, and this is just a simpler way for their petty mortal brains to understand it?

Klaus doesn’t know, to be honest, he doesn’t care. He’s too busy marvelling that they exist at all. 

He hadn’t realised how many there were, how did Ben fit them all in his jacket? Better yet-

“You kept them all?”

Klaus looks back up to his brother, only to find the room has shifted again.

Now Klaus is perched on the end of a bed, _his bed_. 

There in his old room, at the academy. The floor is scattered with clutter, with a few pictures tacked to the wall and a string of lights draped across the bed frame. 

But that's not the weirdest thing. Ben is sat across from him, his legs stretched out over the edge as they were before. But something’s different. 

For one thing, he’s back in the stupid uniform. But for another… 

He looks what, eight? The blazer fits far too big around his shoulders, and his tie collar is loosened around his neck. His nose is too big for his face, he’s skinnier in some places and softer in others. A quick glance down confirms that Klaus isn’t doing much better. His knees poke out from his shorts and his hands, still clutching the postcards tight, are smaller, smoother, and bare of any ink. 

Ben nods, noncommittally. 

“... yeah? Of course I did,” 

“Oh,”

Both their voices sound strange, simultaneously younger and exactly the same. Klaus has to shake his head to adjust. 

Ben leans forward, his head resting on his hand and his face creasing into something a little like mischief. 

“Is it true, what you said, about Diego and Luther actually getting along?”

He reaches out and picks out a card. It's decorated with a long brownstone street that's lit with golden lamps. It’s from Lee, a young kid who lost their dad’s family necklace or something on a night out. Their scribble below writes about Diego and Luther’s Inspector Gadget style booby traps they’d been placing around the complex, and how they'd managed it without tearing each other's eyes out. 

“I know right? Man, you should have seen them like, ten minutes ago at the academy, it's kind of freaking me out,”

Ben smiles, shaking his head. 

“No way, bullshit. Not even an apocalypse can make that happen,” 

Klaus puts the cards in his lap and waves his hands. 

“No, I swear! Without Dad on their asses, it’s like they’ve never even tried to punch the other’s lights out, it’s madness!”

Klaus has leant in now too, and suddenly it's like they were actually kids, gossiping about their siblings in hushed voices on a late Sunday afternoon. 

“Though to be honest, it’s kind of a nightmare. Allison still rarely leaves them unattended. They still bring out like, the _worst_ in each other, except now it's more like they lose every ounce of common sense in their bodies,”

Ben snickers, it's high and soft and so very young. 

“You’re one to talk about supervision,”

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve been perfectly unsupervised for months now,”

“Yeah, and look where that got you,”

Touché. 

Klaus sits against the wall in defeat and continues to leaf through the top few cards. He stops again at Maria’s polite memo. 

“Oh yeah, this lady? You recognise her name?”

Ben takes the card and reads the note again. 

“Wait, yeah I do? Where-,”

Klaus sits forward with a grin and gestures wildly. 

“She’s the bench lady! You remember her? In the central park, by the boat pond?”

Ben’s lip quirks up. 

“No way?”

“Yes way!”

Klaus resists the urge to clap his hands in excitement. 

“It gets better, turns out? She’s Bobby’s grandma, you remember him?”’

“You mean, Bobby and Brent?”

Klaus can’t help it, he slaps Ben’s arm again. 

“Damn right! Turns out she wanted to go check on him, so I took her on a little outing downtown, checked in on him and sent her up here on her way,”

Ben’s smile falters a little, but Klaus doesn’t really register. Instead, he leans against the window sill above his bed. 

“Small world, amiright?”

He turns his head, only they’ve moved again. The scene has shifted to a park bench. 

No, not just any bench, _the park bench_. 

Klaus is back in that darling, furry coat. In the corner of his eye, he catches the glint of an ice cream van and the shimmering surface of the duck pond. Despite the colour grading, Klaus can tell it's sunny out, and he feels the warmth of the monochrome sky against his exposed skin. 

“Yeah,” Ben hums, “small world,” 

His brother pauses, before shifting in his seat

“So that’s what you’ve been doing downstairs, then? Talking to ghosts, figuring out their deal, sending them up here?”

Ben’s voice is neutral, but there’s a slight edge to his words. He runs his thumbs over his knuckles and tenses his jaw. 

Klaus can’t figure out why, so he nods. 

“Yeah, that’s right,”

“Why?”

There's the million-dollar question. 

Why has Klaus been doing this? 

Was it a way to pass the time while they were stuck, scrambling for survival in the wrong future? 

Was it some new-found moral epiphany behind the powers that have plagued him his entire life?

_Was it because he missed-?_

Klaus shrugs. 

“I dunno, it’s better than the drugs, amiright?”

Ben blinks, his lip twitching, but he furrows his brows. 

“I guess,”

He goes quiet again. Klaus decides to let it sit, not sure where this conversation is going. He closes his eyes, then tilts his head. 

Hang on a mo.

He can hear voices. 

It’s clearly just the two of them, sitting in the empty green, but if he holds his breath and clenches his jaw, he’s sure that they might not quite be alone. 

He screws his eyes tight, and as he focuses, Klaus just makes out the rattle of a stroller, the quiet hum of people talking, even the rumble of passing traffic. 

Huh.

How does that work? This place is making less and less sense the longer he stays. 

It’s like he’s sat in just one layer of many, one version of infinite versions of the same park. Like even here, some part of him is peeking through yet another veil. He wonders if they’re not actually alone. He wonders how many people call this little patch their paradise too. 

Maybe Maria is sitting on another version of this very bench. 

Right now, wherever she is, she could be right here, hand in hand in her favourite spot with her husband beside her. 

That's a nice thought. Klaus would like to see her again. Her grandson's burritos held up, in his humble opinion, and he’s sure she’d like to know. 

He strains slightly to hear the chatter, trying to avoid the enduring quiet as Ben considers something beside him. 

His brother grips his jeans, the rustling of the fabric cutting through the muffled hum. Klaus can’t take it anymore. 

“Something wrong?”

Ben straightens up.

“No, nothing’s wrong,”

“Yeah? Because judging by what you're doing to already very distressed denim, it damn well feels like it,”

Ben sighs but says nothing. This irritates Klaus further. 

“Not gonna lie Ben, I thought you’d be at least a little impressed? What, after spending half your afterlife telling me to ‘get sober’ and ‘sort my shit out’, you’ve got something to say?”

Ben clenches his fists again, clenching his jaw with a frown. 

“Yeah Klaus that’s great, good for you,”

He doesn’t sound convinced. 

Klaus can’t help it, he raises his voice. 

“What is the damn problem?”

“Nothing there’s nothing it’s just-,”

Ben sighs hard and adjusts his seat. Something clicks behind his gaze, and he makes a decision. 

“So, there's no other reason then? For the ghosts, no reason at all,”

Sorry, what? 

Klaus frowns. 

“I uh- well yeah I don’t know, what do you want me to say?”

Ben sighs, and his body slouches, before stiffening once again. 

“So there’s no reason why you do all this then, now I’m gone? No motivation behind, you know, actually giving ghosts _what they want?_ ”

Wait, no Ben that’s not- 

“Ben, it’s not like that, why would you-?”

Ben’s voice is even, quiet, bordering on casual, but there's a weight on his shoulders and tension in his jaw. 

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that after seventeen years of apathy at best, now’s the best time for you to finally give a shit about what dead people need, you know?”

Now, wait just a minute. 

“Ben, what the hell you know that's not-,”

“Do I? Because the way I see it the minute I leave, you then decided to have some kind of epiphany after spending the last few months, actually _years_ not giving a damn about what I wanted-,” 

Klaus leans back against the wooden slacks, raising his hands in defence. 

“Well Ben, I’m sorry that after _someone_ decided to skip town unannounced, I had to go play with the other kids. What, why do you think these are for-,”

He lifts the cards, but Ben doesn’t look at them. Instead, he stares ahead, voice still calm but low and hands stiff with tension.

“I just think it's funny that now you give a damn about sorting out unfinished business after I had to literally _beg you to-_ ,”

Okay, hang on a damn moment. They’re really going to do this now, are they?

“Well, maybe something about _what happened in Dallas_ may have changed my mind a little? Is that not allowed or something?”

Ben blinks but continues on his tirade.

“Yeah maybe so, but that doesn’t excuse what you put me through when you wouldn’t even let me _speak to-, _”__

_Whoah whoah whoah._ Listen here. 

“You don’t get to go all high and mighty on my ass, not after _what you did-,_ ”

Ben scoffs.

“Sorry, what _I did?_ ”

Klaus leans back, placing the cards on the bench. Something suppressed, almost forgotten rises in his chest, ready to burst out. 

“Yeah, asshole. After spending the whole day on my case, literally taking my body for a joy ride, you decide what? To skip the earthly realm at the first opportunity without so much of a ‘ta-ta’? Universal dick move, brother mine,”

Ben stiffens and turns sharply towards him.

“I wouldn’t have done shit if _someone_ hadn’t pissed away three years of sobriety and refused to let me, the only one who puts up with your crap, to even _speak_ to my damn family and to _lie in their faces that I’m not there you piece of-,_ ”

Ben goes to continue, but he’s interrupted by Klaus’ laugh. It’s harsh, shaking and a little hysterical.

Because Ben just hit a damn _nerve_.

“Oh Benny Benny Benny don’t you _dare_ talk to me about the damned _truth,_ ”

Klaus hisses that last word, something hot and bubbling rising in his throat, relieving a pressure he didn’t even realise had been boiling.

“How about, huh? How about the fact I spent the last seventeen damned years thinking-,”

Klaus inhales, barely getting his mouth around the words.

“Thinking I’d _trapped you there,_ ”

Ben goes rigid.

Good. 

“You spend every waking moment telling me how lucky I was, how ungrateful I was, how horrible it was for you, to watch me throw it all away, like you couldn’t leave, like you _wanted to leave,_ ”

Klaus presses his nails into his palms and takes in a shaky breath.

“I spent my whole damn life thinking it was - it was my fault? And you knew, you _knew_ what I thought and you said nothing? Nothing at all, just let me carry on thinking I was holding you back from all this-,”

Klaus waves his hands, gesturing to the quiet, tranquil, empty space.

“- and then what do you do? You _leave_ , you finally get your ass kicked through the veil and, _and_ you get Vanya, _Vanya_ , to spill the beans you were too damn chicken to tell-,”

Klaus has to stop, running his shaking hands across his face.

Wow, okay. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding on to all that.

Klaus doesn’t get angry. Not really, it’s not part of his nature.

Snappy? Sure.

Bitchy? You bet.

But real anger? He can’t really think of many times he’s truly felt the sharpest, ugliest feeling blistering in his throat.

What with almost-apocalypse round two, Reggie’s new Sparrows and being sledgehammered with a nice heavy dose of grief (with a capital “G”), he hadn’t fully processed how _pissed_ he was at his brother.

How much, before Five and the rest of the family crashed back into his life, he’d just wanted Ben to _shut the hell up and leave him alone_. 

He’d jabbed and jibbed and questioned every damned decision he made. He’d wanted him to stay with his damned cult, despite how he slowly cracked under the pressure. He’d called Dave, _his Dave_ , a fling.

He didn’t tell him the truth, the truth about their whole lives.

Ben had lied to him. He lied to him and took him over and he left him, he _left him he-_

Ben jumps right back in.

“Look I didn’t know what was going to happen when I went to help Vanya-,”

Klaus rolls his eyes.

“- hey! Listen, Klaus, you can’t blame everyone else for your shitty problems. Just because you can’t keep control of your life doesn’t mean it has to infect everyone else’s,”

Ben shakes his head, smacking his hands on his legs in frustration.

“Yeah, maybe I went too far but it wasn’t exactly fun for me either running around in your scrawny ass-,”

“Yeah it sounded like absolute _torture_ -,”

“Well maybe if you took the chance to get control off your car crash of a life then-,”

Klaus’ pot bubbles over.

“Oh get off your damned high horse, Ben,”

He spits his words in his brother’s face.

“If it was soooo bad, why couldn’t you just buck up and piss off? Why’d you have to extend the pain for both of us if being with me was such a damn chore?”

“Besides, don’t deny it. You’re just as much a trauma pile as me, shit, as all of us in the fuck up of a family,”

He jabs a finger at him.

“ You think it’s so fucking easy, you think you have the right to judge and weigh in on every little fuck up just because you got a free ticket out early before you could ruin it all for yourself I-,”

Wait.

Shit.

Shit, that's too far.

God fucking dammit.

Klaus winces at his own words and bites his tongue. He doesn’t need to look at Ben. He knows what expression is wiped across his face.

He stutters.

“I’m sorry, look I’m sorry Ben I didn’t mean I-,”

His brother says nothing, he doesn’t move from his seat, his posture stiff and fists clenched.

Fuck. Klaus looks down, the blistering heat on his chest cooling into something that might feel like shame.

They’re still on the park bench, the breeze blowing through grey trees and across the dark water.

But the subtle chatter is gone now, and Klaus has never been more sure that it’s just him and Ben.

They’re alone. The way it's always been.

Klaus curses.

Fuck. Fuck this isn’t right.

This isn’t how this is supposed to go. 

He’s done nothing but aches for his brother, feel that empty space at his elbow like an open wound for months.

And how he’s back, he’s _right there_ in a way Klaus was sure would never happen again, except in the twisted perversion that called himself “Number One”.

He’s been given a chance, a chance to do what he never got to the first time around, and he’s just letting the same old stupid baggage get in the way again.

He can’t let this continue to haunt them. For once in his life, he can’t screw this up.

Klaus has to start again.

He runs his hands through his hair, smooths out his coat (damn he really needs to find a replacement, it was the best) and lays his hands in his lap. He looks down at his shoes and sighs.

Here goes.

“Look, I’m sorry,”

Ben shifts beside him, Klaus keeps his eyes on the grass.

“For … everything, I-,”

Shit, where does he even start?

The beginning seems like a lot, so he decides to aim for the end.

“Okay, I don’t know why I didn’t tell them that you were there I guess…,”

“I guess I’ve been so used to them not believing me and I was really pissed at you and …,”

Ben tilts his head.

“... and?”

Klaus sighs.

“.... and… I wanted to hit you where it hurts but I, and-,”

Ben raises an eyebrow, his eyes drilling straight through him. 

“And … I didn’t want you to ... go,”

A beat. And another.

Ben leans back.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?”

Klaus runs his hands across his hair.

“I thought… I thought I was keeping you there and don’t get me wrong the guilt complex was _real_ but like … you’re my ...,“

Why is this so difficult?

“ you were always there, through all my shit and I guess …,”

“I didn’t want to... share you”

Ben snorts.

“What the hells is that supposed to mean ‘share me’, that’s utter shit Klaus you know that I’m-,”

“No, Shut up! I meant …,”

Klaus sighs.

“You were the only good thing,”

Ben stops.

“About my powers, the only perk. I didn’t … want to lose you, back then when we were kids and when I realised… realised that I could get you back I … I didn’t hesitate,”

Klaus isn’t staring at grass now, but snow.

They’re perched under the canopy, in the courtyard, and Number Four looks down at his bare palms and dark sleeves and feels his little brother sit silently beside him, their feet making no marks in the fresh powder

“I got sober, well sober enough, and I did the shitty funeral and Dad’s bullshit and I just focused and you were there and it was … Christ Ben it was the best,”

He swallows.

“No one else puts up with me. Allison a little, Diego sometimes, but you were the only one who … got it, before, at home,”

“And then, when I pulled you back, I really wanted everyone to know, to have you there so things could be back to how they were but then… well you know how that went,”

Ben nods, his face rounded with youth and jacket just a bit too big, wincing at the sound of Diego’s fist on the dining table.

“So it was just us, for years. And I know it's unfair and selfish but-,”

He sighs.

“I thought you couldn’t leave, and I… hated it but I also ... I liked it,”

There, happy now?

He wrings his hands in his lap, his head still tilted at his shoes.

“No matter what shit I pulled, what I took, what I said, you were still there. Cussing me out and questioning my every fucking move but … shit you were there,”

“And then we were fighting and I was being an asshole and I was so pissed at you and I did want to get you back and I swear I’m sorry but ...,“

“Fuck you never told me. Never told me why you were still here, after all that and I thought … I thought it was my fault. The one thing I could do and I let it … fester,” 

Klaus fiddles with the fabric on his blazer, watching the white flakes drift to rest in the empty space where his brother’s casket once lay. 

“So yeah, I was lashing out and trying to get you back and all that shit, I’m not denying I was being a petty prick but-,”

Klaus sighs, closing his hands into fists.

“Really I uh, I thought as soon as I manifested you, brought you forward, you’d see your chance, see a better option, a better sibling…,”

His voice sounds small, definitively young even to his own ears.

“… and go,”

Ben is silent.

“Sure you might need me to be solid and real and shit, but all it would take was me to do it once and that’s it,”

“They’ll all know, the jig would be up, and then-,”

Klaus pauses, cringing.

“-You’d have them. You wouldn’t want me anymore,”

“And I know I was being selfish and you’re dead and you’re not mine and all that crap. And I know that if I’d just _told_ them maybe,”

He swallows.

“Maybe things would be … different,”

“But I’m sorry, I’m just … you’re my brother okay? You’re my brother and… and I should have been there for you after everything and-,”

His throat is burning.

“-ever since you left all I wanted was, all I needed was to say I, that I -… urgh-,”

Klaus can’t go on any further.

There’s a few beats of silence.

Klaus breathes in and out, feeling the ice melt at the back of his throat. He watches the snow tumble down and rest on the academy windows. There are flakes of clear crystal freezing in his brother’s hair.

Come on Ben.

Please, say something.

Klaus feels open, exposed and he needs his brother just to _say something_ come on-

“You’re a moron,”

Klaus blinks.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Ben is looking at him. His expression is calm, all-knowing. A classic face that Klaus knows well.

“You are a moron”, he repeats.

Klaus’ mouth falls open.

“I bleed my heart out to you and you call me a _moron_?”

“Well, you are. You stupid, selfish, naval-gazing moron,”

“Hang on you asshole that's-,”

Ben wraps his arms around him.

He smells like paper and sea breeze and maple syrup.

His hands are warm even in the winter chill, and he’s on his knees to wrap his whole body around Klaus’ skinny, teenage frame.

Hang on what happening hows-

“I’ve missed you too,”

Oh.

“And … I’m sorry,”

Wait, really?

Klaus is still ramrod straight.

“B-but … why? What -,”

“For possessing you. It was a dick move, I should have stopped when you said, I was just-,"

“No wait that's not, if I’d just-,

“Yeah, ‘if you’d just’. You were an ass, you were selfish and an all-round shit,”

He sighs against him.

“But I was still wrong. I saw how it made you feel, felt how you fought back. I’ve had time to think about it and I’m ..., “

Klaus marvels at the way he feels Ben’s chest rise and fall with a breath.

“I’m sorry okay. I got greedy, took advantage of something you couldn’t control and pushed you aside in your own body. I….I didn’t care about your shit, with … Dave and everything, I should have been more patient with you-,” 

“All you’ve been is patient with me,”

Ben smirks into his shoulder.

“Yeah, but that's not all is it?”

He pauses again. 

“I should have told you about ... the light. I shouldn’t have waited till the last second and for Vanya of all people,”

Klaus doesn’t dare breathe.

“I knew how you felt, of course, I did, it’s just-,”

“-I didn’t want to tell you I was scared … about everything. Didn’t want you to …,”

“Me to do what?"

He feels Ben swallow.

“... make me leave,”

Klaus blinks. His arms are still held out, the palms open in mid-air.

Oh for fucks sake.

“Ben, why in the name of all things holy would I make you leave?”

He feels him shift.

“Because- Because you were tied to me, we were tied to each other. And I saw what it was doing to you and how frustrated you got about me always being _right there_ and I didn’t, I didn’t want to leave you alone to choke in some alley or get beaten up at some bar but I didn’t want to remind you of … everything and I didn’t…,”

He stills.

“I didn’t want to leave my big brother behind,”

Klaus takes a moment to process this.

And another one.

And another, just for good measure. 

He feels almost numb.

Not the good kind of numb though. He feels his whole life shift, tilt under this new information.

Seventeen years, seventeen years of all this crap and that's how-

Klaus doesn’t know what he _should_ say.

But he can’t suppress a laugh, followed by-

“... now who's the moron?”

He feels Ben go to lean back and pull away, but Klaus tugs him closer. His hands finally come to rest on his brother’s back and grip his jacket, as Ben’s chin adjusts to rest on his shoulder.

They probably should have opened with this.

So they stay like that, just for a little while. It’s an awfully long time to be hugging or whatever, but fuck it. They have just under two decades to catch up on, and they were far too full of shit to do this properly when they were alive.

Klaus breaks their silence.

“We’re both a pair, aren’t we?”

Ben’s voice is muffled against his collar.

“Yeah, we are,”

“How’d we let it get so bad?”

Because it did. It got so bad.

By the time they got to the FBI building, they’d been at each other’s throats almost constantly. Klaus had barely listened to a word Ben said, isolating and denying him the one thing his brother asked for. Meanwhile, Ben was using whatever chance he’d gotten to poke and prod and _take_ what he’d needed. Even if that meant crossing lines he would never have normally tread.

His brother thinks for a moment.

“Probably because our whole family is a bunch of emotionally constipated toddlers who would rather destroy the moon than talk about their feelings,”

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Klaus shrugs.

“You were always the best at that though. The talking, cutting through the BS, emotions stuff,”

“Look where that got me,”

“Hey, I’m still alive, aren’t I? Well I was, ah you know what I mean,”

Ben smirks. Klaus holds tighter.

“Besides, I hate to break it to you, but it kind of saved the world,”

Ben pauses.

“Yeah, it did,”

They stay like that a few moments more. It's quiet and seems to stretch forever. Klaus feels like he’s just got a small taste of what eternal peace might actually mean.

“It wasn’t all bad though,”

Dammit Ben, don’t break the moment.

“Like yeah, you were a right prick. But…,”

Ben pauses for a minute like he’s choosing his words with care.

“Before, at the academy, I couldn’t imagine what life outside would have been like. When I died, I thought that was it, all over. But with you, it was like … like a bonus,”

“Sneaking into movie theatres, sitting in the park, meeting actual, normal, real-life people who didn’t want to either kill us or get our autograph,”

Klaus nods.

“Shit, even with your stupid cult, we saw the world. Like, actually saw it. We didn’t just drop in, save the day and leave. You ate the food, got lost in the market, pissed off the locals,“

Klaus snorts. Yeah, Kolkata was a great ride.

“That's how I met- well sort of met- Jill, I never thought I’d ever even have a chance at feeling something like that I- I wasn’t alive but I got to-,”

He falters.

“I got to live, just a little,”

He grips Klaus tighter like he needs him to understand.

Klaus thinks he does.

“It's all been gravy,”

Ben nods and laughs.

“Yeah, yeah it has,”

Klaus pulls back.

They’re back on the beach again. Klaus lets the salty breeze brush through his hair as he reaches up to wipe his eyes.

Ben is staring at him, his face open and honest and _alive_ , despite everything.

Klaus can’t help but run his hands through his little brother’s hair. Like they’re still 13 and Ben won’t let him paint his nails, or read his magazine aloud or help him go steal Diego’s shit, just because.

Like they hadn’t both died violent deaths, held down by trauma and heartbreak and everything else.

Like they were brothers.

Just, brothers.

Ben has the courtesy to look suitably pissed off at his motion, but he doesn’t move to stop him. Instead, he lets his arms rest on his brother’s elbows.

Klaus’ chest eases, and he smiles.

“Are you two done?”

Oh for Go-

Wait.

Klaus turns. Sure enough, right behind him is the little holy bitch herself. She’s lent her bike against her side and has her arms crossed against her chest.

Both siblings stand up immediately, but Klaus has to resist the urge to stamp his foot. Sure, leave him wandering in the woods for fuck knows how long, and now she decides to show her little pre-teen face.

“Sorry, can’t you see we’re busy?”

“I don’t care, I want you to leave,”

She sure knows how to pick her moments, doesn’t she?

Klaus can’t help it, he pokes out his tongue.

“Nah, sorry. My brother and I are having a very touching, heartfelt reunion here and no one on God’s- I’m sorry - your green Earth can stop me,”

He can feel Ben baulk a little at this, but Klaus was over her divine BS the moment he met her.

She shakes her head.

“Well you’re not on the earth, you're here. And I need you to go, you don’t belong here and it's messing with everything,” 

“You can’t make me-,”

Ben squeezes his arm.

“-She’s right Klaus,”

He swings his head towards him.

“Hang on, aren’t you supposed to be on my side here?”

Ben shakes his head but smiles apologetically.

“I wish we had more time. But from what you said, about the other me and Dad and the super freaks, our family needs you,”

Klaus laughs.

“What, me?”

Ben nods. Klaus shakes his head in disbelief.

“What can I do against Daddy’s new dream team? In case you hadn’t noticed, they’ve already taken me out once,”

Ben winces but tilts his head, that familiar exasperation back in full glory.

Good, his brother looked strange without it.

“You can’t abandon our siblings, not when they came to save your scrawny ass,”

This is true.

He never even thought his family would even notice, and yet they’d broken all their plans and strategy and everything they’d been hashing over weeks and weeks, just to get him out.

Despite everything, they’d come for him. For Klaus, useless Number Four.

Things didn’t look great before Klaus popped his clogs, either. They were outnumbered, outmatched, and even Vanya, the powerhouse that she was, was struggling against the weird sparky shit the cube and co. had to offer.

But damn.

“I’ve got nothing though. I’m not a fucking superhero, not like them. I never have been, what can I do against .... that?”

Ben sighs, his hands raising up to Klaus’s shoulders, forcing him to look him straight in the eyes. The pressure is nice, it's been a while since another living - well you know what he means - person actually touched him without wanting to do any damage. 

“You don’t have to be a superhero Klaus. None of us did, not really. There’s no law that says just because we have our powers we have to don the spandex,”

“Tell that to Diego,”

Ben’s mouth twitches, but his grip remains firm.

“But you can still help them,”

Ben cocks his head like he’s trying to think before he sets his jaw.

“You’ve never been one thing or the other, I know damn well better than anyone there's not a box that can hold you down,”

Klaus is flattered.

“Dad was an asshole, but he was right. You’ve got potential, I’ve always said it, don’t fucking piss it away feeling sorry for yourself,”

Now he’s less flattered.

But shit. Ben wasn’t lying. He had spent seventeen years haunting his ass. Hovering over every bad decision Klaus ever made with an eye roll and a frustrated sigh.

But he hadn’t screamed, hadn’t wailed.

Instead, he tormented him with _You’re better than that Klaus_ , _You don’t have to do this, Klaus_ and even once or twice _I believe in you, shitheel_.

Klaus had scoffed then and continued to snort or drink or hook up with whoever and whatever he liked. He has never been better than anything in his life, thank you very much.

But maybe losing that pained groan, that gentle (or not so gentle) ribbing and that disapproving grimace, had put some things into perspective.

Ben believed in him. Despite everything he’d done, all the shit he’d pulled, including to Ben specifically, his brother believed in him.

Woah.

But still ...

“Yeah, nice pep talk and all, I’m grateful, really. But ... what can I do? Talk them to death? Because I tried that already and it bought me seconds at best. Besides I’m no match for your freaky ass twin, I doubt my noodly punches are gonna fly,”

He illustrates this with a flamboyant karate chop against Ben’s chest. 

“Anyways, my only real ‘superhero-y’ powers gig was with you, and I’m pretty sure you’re stuck up here for the foreseeable-,”

Klaus glances down to the little girl, who cooly meets his gaze in confirmation. He looks back, disappointed, but focused on the matter at hand.

“-so I don’t see what else I can really offer Benny?”

Ben rolls his eyes like it’s obvious.

“Yeah, but like you said, you’re not the only one whose got unfinished business with those assholes,”

Well yeah, he knows that but-

“And besides, I have a feeling you can be very … persuasive,”

What’s that supposed to mean?

Ben stares at him like he’s waiting for a penny to drop.

Wait.

Ben’s not serious?

Oh shit, he is.

Klaus is an idiot.

But there's no way he can-

“... damn,”

“There we go,”

Klaus shakes his head.

“... I don’t know Ben, I don’t think I’m … capable of that they’re too _fractured_ and there’s far too many and I don’t even know if I can make that work-,”

“Horse shit,”

Klaus will never get tired of hearing Ben swear. If only his siblings could hear timid little Number six now. 

“Take it from the dead guy, you have never been more capable of this. I can feel it, its weird but … you’re soberer, more _in tune_ with your deal than all that time you were off the pills in the 60s, let alone the rest of your life,”

Klaus guesses he’s right. The last few months have been … illuminating in every sense of the word, and the unfamiliar chill his powers bring has never felt more natural.

The veil, or whatever, has never felt so thin. So … available.

But shit he-

Ben snaps him out of it.

“No, shut up. You can do this, you’ve got this,”

His hands are firm on Klaus’ arms and his eyes, so determined, so familiar, see straight through him.

Klaus couldn’t leave his family behind. He had five other siblings he’d like to stay firmly in the land of the living thanks.

Besides.

In all his wandering, in all his moping and grieving as he walked his city in the dead of night, he’d realised something. Something about what he was… not _supposed_ to do, but able to do.

Some way to be … useful.

Klaus was a coward, with a capital “C”. But dammit, he’d already decided where he stood when he stepped out from behind the bar.

He couldn’t stay out of this one. Not when he actually had an idea, for once.

Well, Ben’s idea. But most of Klaus’ decisions are, in one way or another.

Shit.

Okay.

Fuck it, why not.

But wait, before he goes...

Klaus kneels down, blindly fumbling across the ground running his hands over the soft grains of sand. Eventually, he wraps his fingers around his prize and jumps back up. With a flourish, Klaus produces the stack of postcards once again. He grips them for a second, looking fondly at the topmost rooftop landscape one last time, before shoving them forward.

He presses them hard into Ben’s chest, who accepts them clumsily with both hands.

“Don’t lose these alright? I put a lot of ghosts through a lot of trouble to get them here,”

Ben smirks and presses them into his pocket.

“If you insist,”

Klaus slaps his shoulder.

“Oh, you know I do,”

Ben shakes his head but grins. There’s a lot of unsaid things in his face, and Klaus can read every single one of them.

Okay, let’s do this. They both turn behind them, and the little girl snaps her fingers.

“Don’t come back again,”

Klaus sighs.

“I’ll do my best, can’t make any promises now can I?”

“No, you can’t,”

She blinks.

The world begins to shift, and Klaus feels something _swoop_ inside his stomach.

He feels like he's about to drop, to fall-

To _land_.

He instinctively grabs out to Ben.

His brother catches him but gives him a nudge.

“Go on. Go see that I’m right,”

Klaus blinks, focusing on the stiff leather of Ben’s jacket as it begins to slip through his fingers.

“You usually are,”

He feels Ben’s breath on his cheek as he laughs.

“Well well, I guess hell has finally frozen over,”

“If I end up down there I’ll let you know,”

Ben snorts, but his face is blurring. He seems all himself at once, his features merging between _eight/thirteen/seventeen/dead/alive_ , and Klaus grips tighter.

“Try not to come back here too often, I think she’ll get pissed off,”

Klaus feels woozy, like a good high or an even better concussion. His words begin to slur a little. 

"But that’s… but that’s my greatest …. greatest talent! Who else can say they’ve ticked off the almighty?”

“I mean it, Klaus,”

Ben starts to sound distant. Like he’s shouting down a huge, cavernous well.

Klaus strains to hear, to hang on.

 _No wait I changed my mind I’m not ready I’ve got so much to-_

“Don’t waste it alright? No more moping about, it’s not a good look on you,”

Ben runs his thumbs over his forearms, but the touch feels lighter with every second.

“You’ve got to try and live, not just survive you hear me?”

Now look who's appropriating intellectual property, asshole

“They need you down there,” 

Something is slipping in his hands. 

_No Ben I don’t go I need-_

“Don’t be scared, go on Klaus you have to let go,”

_I’m not ready to lose you again I can’t-_

Klaus can’t see the beach, or the girl, or his brother. The world is swirling and he’s falling and he can’t let him go, not now. 

_Please not now._

“Tell them all I said hi okay? Tell them I miss them, and I’m thinking about them-,”

It’s completely black.

He’s free-falling and there’s nothing, nothing, _nothing_

“And Klaus?”

Ben’s voice is loud and clear.

“Don’t forget to write, okay?”

He nods.

_Alright._

…

…

...

Klaus jerks forward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :') 
> 
> How are we doing lads?


	10. Dead Men Tell No Tales

Christ almighty.

Heaven is one hell of an anaesthetic.

Klaus struggles for air, his lungs groaning with effort as he forces oxygen in and out with a shuddering wheeze. His lower body _cracks_ and he falls forward, his legs twisted awkwardly beneath him. 

Shit.

He’s freezing. His skull pounds as he feels the blood gush its way through his protesting brain. His mouth tastes like he’s just made out with the bottom of a birdcage. Klaus runs his hands through his hair and coughs, clearing something congealed and generally gross from the back of his throat. 

Fucking hell, and he thought it was bad last time. 

He hisses as he goes to sit back up, thoroughly not enjoying the way his muscles seem to simultaneously knit together and tear apart as forces himself upright. His vision is blurry, his eyes swimming in fog as he shakes his head, wincing at the way his brain seems to slam repeatedly against the bone. 

“Aww man, maybe I won’t do that again,”

“ _Klaus?_ ”

Huh?

Someone is hovering next to him. A shadow in the corner of his frosted vision. He blinks furiously to make them out. 

He’s leaned up against the bar, his back dug hard against solid wood. Hands are resting gently on his left arm, and scratchy breath rattles against his ear.

Who?

Klaus screws his eyes shut and opens them wide. 

Oh, hey sis. 

Wait-

“Allison, oh my god you’re okay!”

His sister is crouched over him, her eyes shining and her mouth wide open. 

“I’m okay? Klaus how are you- how can you - you were, I don’t-,”

She immediately presses two fingers to his neck. Allison holds them there a moment as Klaus catches his breath, before bringing her palm up to hold his face.

“That’s impossible, how the hell are you even-?”

Her voice is shaky, grating audibly against her throat. But it’s good to hear his sister back to earth once again. Klaus sits all the way up now, his hands meeting hers as he tries to soothe her.

“It’s no sweat Alli, honestly, I’m right as rain,”

Allison shakes her head.

“You were _dead_ Klaus,”

Well, that’s an awfully strong word…

Allison is looking him up and down, and Klaus breathes a sigh of relief to see there’s no trace of violet in her eyes, nor any streaked across her throat. 

He follows her gaze to his torso and … oh yikes.

His sweater has a pretty serious looking tear cut right across his middle, exposing his stomach to the elements. It’s a gross mix of pale skin and dark purple bruising.

And thick, congealed blood. 

Yeah, that’ll be why that hurts then.

Klaus is also pissed to see that one of his shoes is strangely missing. Bastard must have knocked it off when he went flying, goddammit. He’s left with half a sock hanging off his toes, which Klaus absently shimmies off with his other foot. That’s annoying, he liked those boots.

Allison snaps her fingers in front of his face. 

“Klaus, what the hell I thought, we _all thought_ -,“

He shushes her, rubbing his freezing hands across her arms in comfort. 

“Hey it’s alright Alli, no big deal I’m okay,”

“ _no big deal!?!_ ”

Oh, this is gonna take some explaining, huh?

_BANG_

Thankfully, something large and heavy slams about three feet away from them, mercifully changing the subject. 

In his post rigor mortis haze, Klaus had been quite oblivious to the fight raging on around him. 

Funny how an actual-death-experience can focus the mind.

It looks bad. Now Not-Ben has joined the fight, most of the Umbrella's efforts are focused on avoiding a similar fate to Klaus at all costs. While the Five continues to crash in and out of the wall walker and Luther knocks back waves upon wave of angry corvids, Vanya and Diego are in an eternal front against the murder tentacles.

They have some advantage. The Umbrellas know how Ben fights, more or less, so dodging the Horrors as they swipe and lash is a rhythm they’re familiar with, at least from the sidelines. But even Vanya with her apocalyptic level shit is struggling, trying hard to limit herself so she doesn’t bring the house down on top of them all. 

It looks like someone’s gone to rescue the ponytail girl too, and the magnet dude has found his feet again. The Sparrows are back to full strength, even if two of their numbers are looking a little shaken, and the fight seems to have gotten even more brutal in Klaus’ absence. 

Five grabs something long and heavy off the wall and swings it hard, but Not-Ben is faster and knocks him flying. Five only just manages to jump to safety but still lands hard with a loud _crunch_.

Klaus winces. That’s gotta smart a bit. 

Hargreeves stands above it all, waiting stoically in the corner of the room with quiet interest. His attention is solidly fixed on the opposite side, apparently satisfied that anyone to his left has been thoroughly dealt with.

Great. That’s actually exactly what Klaus needs. 

Allison is still leaning over him, looking a little shell shocked if he’s honest. But as Klaus goes to soothe her worries once again, he sees that they aren’t alone.

“You gave her a scare,”

Clarence kneels next to him. His lined face is creased with fascination like he’s examining a particularly rare and valuable antique vase. 

Klaus does his best ‘ _sorry about that_ ’ face. Clarence shrugs. 

“Don’t be, it snapped her out of it in no time. Well, that and whatever your other sister’s talents may be. They were all very upset,”

Huh. 

Klaus tries to push down the little twinge of guilt, and the slightly stronger nugget of warmth. 

Nice to know he’d been missed. 

Clarence tilts his head. 

“May I ask, where did you go?”

Klaus murmurs under his breath, hoping Allison would be too caught up in her fuss to notice. 

“... to see a friend,”

Clarence nods. 

“I see,”

Klaus shrugs, before shifting his attention back to his sister. Judging by the shouting ahead of him, he doesn’t have much time. 

“Are you okay, Alli? Are you back?”

Allison blinks. 

“Uh, I think so, maybe? Whatever he did, he's out of my head now, but...,”

She taps the side of her forehead, wincing. 

Okay, not great, but what Klaus needs to know is-

“Hypothetically uh, could you maybe… do your thing, possibly, if needed?”

Allison frowns, but nods.

“Maybe”, she whispers, “I’d need quiet though. I can’t do it over all of this,”

She waves towards the madness, where Diego slams hard against a pillar, letting out a string of inventive curse words as he falls to the ground. 

Vanya sends out another blast, ominously shaking the roof, and Luther swoops in to grab an injured Five out of danger, much to the latter’s chagrin. 

Quiet huh? 

Okay. 

Not-Ben sends another sashimi swipe, narrowly missing Luther by an inch. 

Right, he’s seen enough here. 

Klaus leans in towards his sister. 

“See you in a bit Alli, gimme just a sec,”

“Klaus wait - what are you-?”

Klaus shushes her gently, grabbing her hand and, just for the hell of it, planting a light kiss on her cheek.

Klaus also shoots a look over to Clarence, who continues to stare at him like some captivating curiosity or trinket, before scrambling to his feet.

He finds his balance, his body still a little shaky from you know, the whole resurrection thing. But it’s not so bad. Klaus has walked in higher heels than this with much worse shit than the death jitters in his system.

Speaking of which, the missing shoe is a bit of an issue now he’s standing. Sighing, Klaus leans over to pull the other boot off, feeling the chill of the floor on his bare toes. 

He stands awkwardly at the edge of the chaos. What’s the plan again?

Oh yeah.

Unfortunately, everyone’s so engrossed in killing each other, they’re completely oblivious to his presence.

Klaus is a little offended. 

He needs to get their attention, but he’s not sure how to achieve that over this din. Then he has a brainwave. 

Klaus takes his offending boot, sadly running his hands over the chunky heel. He then grabs the strap and hurls it to his right.

It flies gracefully through the air, before colliding with the horrific portrait hanging over the fireplace.

As if the initial _BANG_ wasn’t enough, Klaus manages to knock the mugshot right off its hanger. Both the canvas and the array of decor stacked on the mantle fall to the floor with a loud _CRASH_.

Sorry, Clarence. 

At first, he doesn’t think it’s enough, but then the room comes to a halt.

“ _K-K- Klaus?_ ”

Bingo.

Diego is pale, kicking a Sparrow back with a wince, his eyes wide and hands suspended in midair. Vanya drops to the floor, one shaking hand outstretched and the other clutched tight over her mouth. Luther is as white as a sheet, and even Five, the hardass he is, looks pretty shaken. 

The Sparrows stand, frozen in place, faces flickering with well-earned confusion.

All over little ol’ him. 

Klaus waves [HELLO]. 

“You’re dead,” 

Not-Ben’s face is still, calm even. The Horror retreats inside of him, with only a slight twitch in his right hand betraying any real emotion. 

Klaus shrugs, kicking a bit of debris away with casual abandon. 

“Apparently not,”

Not-Ben’s eyes narrow. In the corner of his vision, Klaus clocks Reginald doing the same, his eyebrow raised in interest as he leans slightly on his cane. 

“I killed you,”

Klaus looks himself up and down, brushing his coat dramatically and leaning back on his old staple; playing dumb. 

“Are you sure? Maybe I just took a nap,”

Not-Ben growls, his face twisting from detached to _dangerous_. 

“I ripped you in _half_ ,”

Well if you want to get _technical_. 

Klaus spreads his hands with a careless smile

“I don’t know what to say, I did warn you,”

He stretches up to run a hand through his hair, not missing the way Not-Ben’s eyes dart down to his exposed, blood-stained middle. 

“I’m a tough one to crack, despite my dainty demeanour,” 

He winks. Not-Ben bares his teeth.

“That is impossible,”

“I’ve been called worse,” 

They stand there for a moment, the air thick with tension. 

Anticipation. 

In the pause his family have edged to the other side of the room, Five still in Luther’s arms and Diego leaning heavily on Vanya’s shoulder. They haven’t taken their eyes off him, with Diego, in particular, looking like he’s just seen a miracle. Or Klaus has grown a new head. 

Shit, he might have, he’s not sure how this coming back to life business really works. 

But Klaus doesn’t care about that now. He’s much more concerned with the other occupants of the room. 

The space is alive with the dead, as it was before he uh … left. They crowd around the outskirts of his gaze, their faces pale, bloody and twisted. Their eyes are fixed on their killers, as they always were, and Klaus doesn’t even have to try to feel it. 

Feel their pain, their anger, their _need_.

It coils in his gut, dropping cold and heavy like an iron chain. 

Hm. Good.

He sighs, pushing his hair back once again, before holding his hands out with a casual shrug. 

“Look, this has been fun and all, but I’m going to give you one more chance,”

Not-Ben steps back. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard,”

He narrows his eyes. 

“One more chance for what?”

Klaus nods his head. 

“To let us go,”

Not-Ben blinks and his companions behind him exchange amused looks. 

“You’re joking,”

“Nope,” Klaus replies, popping the ‘p’. 

“Let us go on our way, forget all about us, and go back to whatever it is you do when you’re not kidnapping and murdering innocent folks off the street,”

The Sparrow laughs. It's cold and harsh and grating, but it doesn’t bother Klaus in the slightest. 

“And why would we do that?”

Klaus idly swings his gaze across each of them, his hands absently removing lint from his coat sleeve.

“Oh a whole host of reasons really; I've never been one for conflict. I feel like being nice, And to be honest, we’ve already trashed this place enough even for my liking,”

Maybe Klaus imagines it, but he feels an abstract nod of agreement somewhere behind him. 

Not-Ben turns to his left, making incredulous eye contact with his commander in chief. Reginald’s face remains neutral, staring his Number One down without comment. He turns back to face Klaus with a shake of his head. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we cannot accept your … generous offer,”

Klaus thought as much. 

“That’s a pity,” 

He holds his gaze. 

“So what now?”

Not-Ben rolls his eyes. 

“Now, we carry on where we left off,”

He waves behind him, and the Sparrows stand to attention once again. 

“I’ll make sure to be thorough this time,”

Klaus watches his limping family gather together, Five swatting Luther on the arm to let him down and Diego wincing as he shifts his weight to his other leg. Vanya’s eyes drain of colour, and Klaus hears Allison struggle to her feet behind him. 

The same combatants regather, and Klaus watches as two lines of Hargreeves take each end of the room once again. 

He shakes his head.

“No sorry, I don’t think we will,”

All eyes snap back to Klaus. 

“And why is that?”

Why indeed. Klaus steps forward, gracefully sloping in between the two sides.

It’s such a bold move, so casual and so confident, no one moves a muscle.

He smiles.

“Because you’re absolutely right,”

The room is quiet. Well, for everyone but Klaus. 

“You are the spitting image of my little brother,”

Not-Ben blinks. 

“Really, it’s uncanny. That is, apart from a few things,”

Klaus grins.

“The hair for one-,”

He begins to count down on his fingers, rocking slightly from side to side.

“I mean Jesus Christ it’s like a bird died on your head. You also need to sort out your top lip dude, seriously a proper friend would tell you it’s not a good look,” 

Klaus giggles to himself, quietly with just a pinch of mania.

“You also talk like a discount Bond villain-,“

Klaus looks him up and down.

“- you suck up to the old corpse far too much-,“

He gives a cheery wave to a resolutely unimpressed Hargreeves.

“-and, need I mention, of course, the eight-foot-long rod up your ass?”

The lead Sparrow sneers, saying nothing. 

“But you know something?”

Klaus takes a step forward, sucking in a deep, grounding breath as he does so. 

“I’ll admit, there are a few overlaps,” 

Unbeknownst to the rest of the room, the coil draped across his stomach begins to unfurl. 

Klaus is aware of his family behind him, frozen in what he can only imagine is horror as their middle sibling edges closer and closer into the lion’s mouth. 

Or would that be Cthulhu?

“Number One; red really is not your colour,”

Klaus pauses where he is, about six feet away from the Sparrow’s line of defence. 

“Number Two; I get the feeling that you might actually give a shit about the assholes you call your family, all credit to you,”

It’s subtle, but Not-Ben ever so slightly edges back, his eyes flicking to where the ponytail woman stands to his left. 

“And, _drum roll please_ , Number One;”

Klaus grins. 

“You have the biggest body count,” 

Klaus dips his head to one side, and sighs. 

“Yeah, little Benny always was the most deadly. I mean, looking at your line up you’re all very impressive and that, but the Horrors always did make it so very-,”

Klaus waves a hand

“ _-personal,_ ”

The Sparrows stare him down, and he feels his own siblings burning holes in the back of his neck. 

Klaus knows the room is his. He's sure all eyes are fixed right on him. 

But his attention is elsewhere. 

He drags his gaze across the unseen hoards lingering in the corners of the room, phasing in and out of overturned furniture and piles of rubble. They’re loud, angry and _disconnected_ in every sense, a sea of faces old and young, tall and short, bloody and whole. They wail hysterically yet unheard in their murderers’ ears. 

Reaching out to touch, to _grab_. 

Klaus swallows.

Here goes.

All the anger, all the pain, all the _death_ , flows straight through him, filtering right down into his core. His mouth continues to run, but the words echo as if from far, far away.

“Yeah, poor Benny had it rough,”

He tilts his head to the side, almost in sympathy.

“You know? Sometimes, he’d ask me things,” 

Klaus steps forward, spreading his bare feet across the wooden floor and loosening his shoulders as he feels out, further and further. He stretches his hands, experimentally, and is pleased to find a pleasant tingle is beginning to prickle across his palms. 

“He’d come to me, after missions, still covered in all that shit, still shaken up from letting his little friends out for a walk, you know how it is-,”

He nods airily at the Other Ben, whose jaw is tight and the nose is wrinkled with pure disdain.

“-and he’d say all sorts of things, you know-,”

Klaus keeps his face neutral and voice light, but looks straight through the Other Ben’s head. 

“‘Are they okay? Are they still here?’”

His stomach _drops_.

“‘Are they angry?’”

Klaus tilts his head the other way. 

“Now, Benny always was my favourite -sorry Di-,”

Klaus glances blindly behind him but doesn’t really look.

“ - so I told him not to sweat it. Of course, they’ve moved right along, no hard feelings, go back to bed now,” 

There’s that chill again, spreading up his throat and down his arms, something like ice freezing down into his fingers. 

“But, you see, as you so rightly said-,”

Klaus smiles. 

“You’re not my brother,”

The Other Ben stares him down, but shivers as his breath crystalize right before his eyes. The whole room temperature has dropped, and even Reginald glances back and forth as an invisible frost spreads from the room’s centre. 

“So, I’m gonna have to be honest with you here, _Number One_ ,”

The ice has spread right through him now, even dropping down from his middle right into his toes. 

His whole body immersed, _draped_ in a cool, crisp veil.

“The dead have so many tales to tell,”

The spirits moan and wail, but settle. Grow still. 

Okay, now or never. 

Klaus focuses on, not the tether, but the _net_ cast across the room. 

He tenses.

He takes everything they feel, all the terror, the confusion and agony that comes with a cruel and early death and grips it _tight_ , clutching it in his mind’s eye like his life depends on it. Because it kind of does.

It should be hard, it should overwhelm and crush him under its terrible, intangible weight. 

But it comes easy, almost too easy. 

It’s as natural as breathing. 

He lets the feeling rest in his chest for a moment, allowing it to be encased in the icy haze. 

“And guess what,”

Klaus _pulls_.

“I know every dirty little secret,”

The spirits’ gaze snaps towards him, their focus finally joining the living in the centre of the room. 

Klaus looks at them, _feels them_ and pushes as hard as he can.

_I know it hurts. I know you’re scared. I know you’re dead._

_But I’ve got you. It’s okay_

Klaus feels the static _buzz._

 _Will you help me?_

A second. Then two more. 

And another, because four is his lucky number. 

A woman near the front of the overwhelming mass, somewhere in her late forties and missing her lower jaw, looks him dead in the eye. 

She's a stranger, one face amongst hundreds, but they understand each other like old friends. 

And she speaks for them all. 

A nod.

Klaus grins. 

All eyes are on him. 

“But you know what?”

The rest of the room is held in suspense, shivering and stone-cold still. Klaus looks at them all one by one, letting himself take one last breath. 

Finally, he rests his eyes on the head Sparrow’s eternally familiar gaze. 

“How about I let them tell you?” 

Klaus clenches his fists. 

Nothing happens, and the room is completely silent. 

Until it isn’t. 

There’s a piercing shriek. 

Not-Ben jumps forward, turning wildly towards the source of the noise before stumbling back. 

There’s a writhing, seething wall of _blue_. 

For a moment, no one else moves. The dead flicker in and out, blinking and stumbling as Klaus pours every ounce of strength, of _life_ , he has into their splintered souls.

The lead Sparrow splutters in confusion, and every spectre zeroes in on their only target.

They reach out, skeletal, bloody limbs grasping at the air as they move forward, and they begin to moan. 

They’re made up of all sorts, from goons dressed in black leather and tailored suits to frightened youths and uniformed bystanders. There’s a mess of languages, accents and ages, all littered with different injuries and pulsing with infinite baggage.

But they are united under one, single cause.

_... you it’s you you did this to mE WHY WHY WHY..._

The other Sparrows part in horror and Not-Ben backs away, his eyes wide and mouth agape. 

As they approach, their din grows louder and sharper.

_you did this to me-why I thought you were going to help me- my legs they hurt it hURTS SO MUCH WHY DID YOU DO THIS-_

The lead Sparrow snaps out of his fear, throwing up his shirt. 

He smiles, victorious, as he unleashes the Horrors and watches them strike with deadly accuracy straight through the mob, only for his face to fall.

The dead barely blink, surging forward in droves as the eldritch horror writhes in confusion. 

Yeah.

That’s right. 

And Klaus is just getting started. 

“You know what? I’ve had complaints about all you little birdies,” 

He raises his voice slightly over the noise, barely blinking as the din brings the rest of the room’s hands to their ears. 

“Don’t want to leave them out, do we?”

Klaus pulls again, reaching out through the ether and taking hold. Something pulses right from his hands through his toes and into the floor. He grits his teeth and holds his breath as the net beneath his fingers becomes taut, almost ready to snap. 

_Don’t be scared, come on, it’s okay_

_Let’s go raise a little hell_

The room bursts into light. A tangled mess of spirits, both broken and whole, groaning and still, are pulled from one world into the next. 

Klaus barely has to blink, before they hurl themselves into the fray.

It’s chaos.

A whirlwind of red and blue, of living and dead and even Klaus can’t make out specifics.

He catches Dominica, the wall shifter, trying to drop through the floor, only to be followed straight down and dragged back up with a strangled cry. 

A flash of yellow and purple combines with a slew of projectiles as the others attempt to fight back the best way they know how. Only their attacks slide straight through the crowd, forcing each one, human and freaky ass cube alike, to fall back and spread out. There’s no room for stragglers though. As the ponytail woman tries to reach out, gloves off, to grab the mob straight back she fades right through, withered arms and mangled faces scrambling to seize her. 

Klaus stands at the centre of it all. 

He’s connected to every move, can feel every touch, every wail thrumming through his bones.

To be honest, he feels a little drunk. His body is fuzzy and he is riding a very familiar _rush_. It’s the closest he’s been to high in a very, very long time. 

Except he's hyper-aware of every little move. Klaus _knows_ every spirit in the room, understands on some deep, incomprehensible level all of it. 

All their fears and all their doubts and all their damage. 

It should be suffocating, and it is, but it’s like Klaus doesn’t even need to breathe. 

He takes it all and funnels it through all his own shit too, all his need to help, to escape, to _save_. 

He’s numb to the madness but directing it all the same. 

And they just keep coming. 

This house is practically infested with ghosts, the lingering imprint of the dead hanging in every corner and every crevice. 

As Klaus grabs tight, gives in and welcomes their pull and their whims, he reaches out to them too. Senses for all the ghosts he can’t see, but _feels_ and whispers along the lines he casts. 

_It’s okay._

_I understand._

_I know it hurts._

_Don’t be afraid._

_Please help me._

His feet remain fixed to the floor, but he pushes down, down, _down_ , through the wood and the metal and the concrete. He reaches out to the familiar spirits trapped below, so frightened and fractured and alone. 

Klaus holds out a gentle hand and whispers.

_Don’t be frightened._

_I need your help._

_They can’t hurt you anymore_

It’s so easy. 

When have his powers ever come so naturally? 

Before, each time he held out the proverbial olive branch, it was one to one, based on idle observations from moments and memories scattered across Klaus’ sad little life. A pair of shoes here, a tattoo there. It’s enough just for one, but liable to a bit of push and pull. But right here?

He has one, simple and solid fact in common with every single stiff trapped in this godforsaken mansion.

The Sparrows murdered him too. 

And now? 

Klaus wants out. He wants all this shit to end. He wants to go home with his family and never have to think about this stupid academy ever again.

And?

Maybe, just maybe, he wants a little bit of payback too.

His attention snaps back the room. 

Klaus has stepped backwards, giving room for the madness and standing, almost protectively, in front of the line of siblings behind him. 

The Sparrows are fighting tooth and nail, but there’s not much they can do. It’s a wave of arms and hands and shrieks, grabbing and pulling and scratching at every piece of living flesh they can muster, desperately trying to hold the other Hargreeves down. 

Looks like it’s not turning out so well for Reginald’s replacement bundle. 

Speaking of which, where is the old bastard? 

Klaus lifts his gaze, struggling for a moment to see outside of the haze of blue. He spots him quickly though. 

Reginald is quietly trying to back away, apparently deciding that the writing is on the wall. He slips between the pillars, disappearing from sight. 

Oh no, you don’t. Klaus _pulls_ again. 

A few spirits break away from the crowd, dressed in black with various bits and pieces missing. 

They follow out of sight only to come sloping back with a very distressed looking Sir Reggie in tow.

Among them, would you believe, is no one other than Teddy. He struggles with his similarly dressed comrades, taking Hargreeves around the arms with a vice-like grip. Guess he decided to join the party. Good for him. 

Klaus gives him a friendly wave, greeted by a nod in return before the ghost turns his attention back to his prisoner, who huffs and shouts in protest. 

“Unhand me, this is ridiculous, un _hand me at once_ ,”

The spirit smirks, shaking his head. 

“Sorry boss, no can do. You’ve had this one coming for a while,” 

Reginald goes to shout again when Teddy clamps a hand over his mouth. Dammit, Klaus has wanted to do that for almost thirty-four years. 

Reggie is dragged into the room's centre, as the Sparrows fall, one by one, to their knees under their victim’s wrath. There’s only one left standing, and surprise surprise, guess who. 

The Other Ben is still writhing, the untamable power of the dead practically matched by the unfathomable nightmare of the Horrors. 

“No, get back, you can’t - get _back I said BACK,_ ”

It’s a losing battle. He throws the Horrors blindly left and right, not caring who or what is in their way. But it's not enough. He’s killed too many, taken too much to have a chance now.

He throws another swing, only for a mob of spirits to grab him from behind. The Sparrow’s leader finally falls to his knees. 

All of them strain against their spiritual restraints, purple dude’s hands glowing uselessly through the shadow and the Cube vibrating ominously through the piles of bodies holding it in place. 

The ghosts moan and grunt, still on their never-ending tirade against their tormentors, but the Sparrows no longer look at them. 

Instead, they look up, staring wide-eyed and breathless at ... Klaus. 

All eyes look up to him, their faces twisted into- 

Fear.

That’s fear. 

No one has ever been frightened of him before.

Frightened _for_ him? Oh yeah, probably. 

But Klaus has never been a threat in his life. 

He looks down at them all, his freezing hands clenched at his sides as he meets them one by one, to finally rest on the only Sparrow who really matters to him. 

The Other-Ben looks up, still straining and struggling against the ghost, and hisses. 

“Well, now what? What are you going to do with us?”

His eyes are screwed with anger, and disgust and contempt.

But he’s scared. It’s written all over his face. And it’s a face Klaus knows. He just … knows. 

It’s also a fair question. 

Klaus could end this, right now. 

All it would take is a little push. It’s not beyond what they, the ghosts, want. They want to get them back, to scare them, to do to them what they did. 

They murdered him. 

This Ben, the one in front of him, murdered him without a second thought. 

If he did the same, took them all out in a single breath, they would all be safe. His family could move on. It would be clean, concise.

That intoxication, the chill is strong and almost overwhelming, making his joints stiff and his blood freeze. 

A very, very small part of Klaus almost _tugs_.

It’s what someone else might do. 

It’s what Reginald, the one he knew that is, would want him to do. 

It might be, in the right circumstances, what a superhero should do. 

But no. 

That’s not what Klaus does. 

This house has enough ghosts. 

He smiles nad leans right into Not-Ben’s face, bringing a glowing finger up to his lips. 

“Okay, hush now everyone”

A _pulse_.

The ghosts cease their moaning at once, and in turn, clamp their hands over the struggling Sparrow’s mouths. 

Not-Ben’s eyes are screwed with anger, and disgust and contempt and lots of other lovely things.

Klaus stares right back for a second, before nodding and rising to his feet. 

He spins airly on the spot, finally turning to face his family. 

“Okay ladies and gents, all yours,” 

No response. 

His siblings stand in a straight line, backed up against the outer window in various states of disarray. Diego leans heavily on Vanya, while Allison holds on to Luther’s arm. Five is standing now, but definitely favouring his left leg. 

They each wear the same, rather shocked looking expression. Diego’s mouth is wide open, and Luther looks like he might need to sit down.

All stare agape, except for Five, who looks oddly … impressed? 

It would be hilarious if Klaus wasn’t on a bit of a time limit here. 

“Hellooooo? Anyone home?”

He turns to the far left. 

“Allison? You ready over there?”

His sister blinks. Klaus beckons her forward, holding out a glowing hand. 

“Mind doing the honours?” 

She finally clocks what he’s getting at, rising shakily and moving gingerly forward to stand beside him. 

She gives him one last look of … was that worry? Klaus isn’t sure. 

Either way, she runs her gaze over him before returning eyes front, holding her hands out in front of her.

She takes a steadying breath and whispers- 

“ _I heard a rumour … that you all went to sleep … and didn’t wake up until we told you to,_ ”

The milky white haze echoes out across the room, and one by one, each Sparrow, or indeed weird Cube thing, collapses into the spirit’s arms. 

Not-Ben is the last to fall, watching as even Reginald falls backwards before making final eye contact with Klaus. 

He waves [GOODBYE].

The man, whose name is Ben, but not really, slumps into a deep, heavy, irresistible slumber. 

Everything is still. Klaus leans back, cracking his shoulders in relief and giving his little entourage a wave. 

The spirits let their charges drop. They’re still visible to the whole room. Klaus can feel that his hands are still aglow, that strange chill still having a hold over his senses. He claps his hands together. But then he stops. 

Klaus staggers back, spots dancing in his vision and something rising his throat. 

There are gentle hands to catch him as he stumbles, but he’s not going to pass out. That’s not what's got him. 

Something is welling up in his chest, something warm and soft and- 

Calm. 

Oh, there we go. 

The spirits look at each other, then down at themselves, before turning to face a man right at the far back. 

He’s young, another random bystander Klaus never even really got to know. He tenses before holding his hands up to his face. 

He starts to drift. 

He looks around for help, but Klaus regains himself and reaches out. 

“Hey hey hey, don’t panic, it’s okay!”

The young man looks over, his broken face mending before his eyes. 

Klaus nods, before another voice gasps in surprise. An old woman, another stranger, steps towards him, and tries to speak as her form begins to splinter. 

Klaus steps away from whoever caught him and runs over, grabbing her hands and smiling as encouragingly as he can muster. 

“It’s okay ma’am. _Está todo bien_ , you can go now,” 

That settles it. The whole crowd begins to ignite, one by one. 

Faces strange and familiar are bathed in a wreath of blue light, their forms shifting to become smooth and unbroken. Their faces relaxing with a clear sense of peace. 

Klaus isn’t sure what to do, so he puts on a smile. But honestly? It feels a little genuine this time. 

“Thank you for all your help, you guys. I appreciate it, I really do,”

He finds Teddy, who gives Hargreeves one last kick, before looking up to Klaus and nodding. He begins to fade away. 

Klaus gives him a mini-salute. 

“Tell the little girl I sent you, she’ll give you a coupon or something,”

The light is almost blinding now, but it doesn’t bother Klaus much.

“You did great, go enjoy it! Have yourself a great afterlife-,”

Someone tugs on his arm. 

Klaus turns and smiles wider. 

“Well hello, ladies!”

The two nannies smile shyly back. Katerina squeezes his hand, her grip cold but gentle, and Dorothy beckons him down to her level. 

Klaus obliges. 

“Thank you,”

She whispers, her voice clear and calm and well … grateful. 

Klaus blinks. 

“Uh… you’re welcome? I’m sorry for the push I uh … I’m glad you two decided to join the festivities!”

He rubs his neck, suddenly feeling guilty for forcing them out, remembering their reactions not an hour ago. 

The two ladies shake their heads. 

“Thank you, for helping us. We were scared before but-,”

Dorothy looks down at the bodies at their feet, shaking her head a little. 

“-We cannot let it hold us back, not anymore,” 

They’re glowing now too, their hands becoming a cool breeze against Klaus’ own. 

“Well I’m happy to help uh … you two deserve a nice crack at eternal peace,” 

He pats them gently, expecting to see them vanish too, but Katerina grips his hand tighter.

“What about you? We must say thank you, what do you need?”

Oh yeah, Klaus almost forgot. He made a promise, didn’t he? 

But nothing immediately comes to mind. After airing all his dirty laundry, he’s afraid his next postcard may be blank. 

But wait-

Klaus spins on his heel, once again turning to face his siblings. 

“Well gang, got anything to say?”

They blink, Luther and Diego exchanging looks and Five tilting his head in confusion. Vanya has Allison leant over her shoulder, both wearing matching expressions of uncertainty. 

Klaus spread his hands. 

“Well? Anything?”

Diego takes the plunge. 

“Sorry, say what? To who?”

Klaus rolls his eyes. Come on guys, keep up. 

“Duh!”

Klaus grins.

“Ben of course?”

They blink. If Diego isn’t careful his face is gonna stick like that. 

Klaus goes to ask again, but he realises his two nanny friends are almost gone now. He has to be quick. 

Another time perhaps. He turns back to the two women. 

“Well gals, if it’s not too much trouble, I was wondering if you could pass a little message on to my brother, maybe?”

Klaus watches as the rest of the ghosts finally vanish, leaving only the two before him. 

“His name’s Ben, yea big, loves a dorky novel, hangs out on a beach in case you need an address. Could you tell him that uh-,”

He flicks his eyes back to his stunned but silent family. 

“- we all say hi! Everything’s okay and uh-,”

He smiles. 

“- thanks, for everything. We owe him one,”

The two women nod. 

There’s one last burst of _blue_ , and finally, they let go. 

The light around his hands flickers out, like a candle, and he steps backwards. 

Klaus smiles, shaking out his hands and stretching his neck as he takes a deep breath of relief, like he’s finally coming up for air. 

What a day, huh. Christ, you know what he really could use? 

His hands fumble down into his pockets, and he shouts a triumphant _aha!_ as he miraculously produces his very last, pre-rolled cigarette. 

He pats his jeans again, before turning back to his siblings with a frown.

“Don’t suppose any of you have a lighter?”

They stare back, utterly and completely dumbstruck. 

He’ll take that as a no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all ^_^
> 
> I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter. Seriously you guys are all so lovely and nice and asdfjklidjshajsjshagal I’m just buzzing xD 
> 
> I hope you liked this one - it was a lot of fun to write tbh ^_^
> 
> I hope you all are doing okay out there, and thank you again for reading and kudos-ing and commenting ahhhh xxx


	11. How The Life Goes On

_When this is all over_ , Klaus thinks, _I should repaint my nails._

Klaus holds his cigarette out in front of him, examining the back of his slightly shaking hands before bringing the filter up to his lips. 

He’s sitting in the courtyard, perched on the bench across from Ben’s canopy, taking in the crisp early morning air. The sun hasn’t come up yet, and the city’s traffic has yet to hum and vibrate against the academy’s walls. 

It's quiet, and Klaus allows himself to take the first proper breath he’s had all day. 

Why is he out here?

Officially, he was sparing his siblings from breathing in his fumes once he’d swiped some matches. 

Privately? 

He’s not sure what to do with himself. 

Now the adrenaline has started to ebb and the threat is mostly neutralised, Klaus’ brain is finally starting to catch up with what the fuck has happened in the last 24 hours. 

Specifically, what just happened to him. 

More specifically... did he just save the day? 

Klaus feels like he should be celebrating. Rubbing it in his sibling’s faces and cashing it for every penny it's worth.

Klaus, _Klaus_ of all people, just rescued each and every one of their super-powered asses. That’s right, he took out the whole fleet and the admiral in one shot, with gunpowder to spare. Surely, none of them will ever live it down. 

On top of that, he just rid this house of pretty much every spirit it ever held, effectively cleansing this place of all the Sparrow’s spiritual baggage. The academy is subdued in more ways than one, no longer thrumming with extra-sensory energy that only Klaus could feel. 

Not bad, if he says so himself.

He takes another puff but winces as he readjusts his position on his seat, feeling the morning breeze brush against his exposed stomach. 

Christ, he’s exhausted. Dying and performing what’s essentially a mass exorcism can really take it out of you. 

His siblings still haven’t followed him. He’d pushed past too quickly once he’d finally tracked down a light, strangely self-conscious under all their scrutiny. 

He might have heard a voice behind him, calling out to ask a very understandable _what the fuck_ , but for once he isn’t on board with being the centre of attention. 

Not that he’d admit it to anyone, of course, but he’s just not sure what to do with all … that. 

So once again, he is smoking. 

He pulls his coat around him, not enjoying the chill that should have long been chased away by the May season. Especially since the wintry nip in his hands hasn’t fully dissipated yet. 

He’s about to finish his cigarette when someone walks into the corner of his eye and sits beside him. 

“That was quite the show you put on in there,”

The old man leans back, crossing his legs and turning towards him. 

Klaus frowns, confused, but the corner of his lips twitch up. 

“Oh, you’re still here?”

He looks back at Clarence, who shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Where else would I be?”

“Well you know, all the others decided to kick it after … all that,”

He gestures vaguely back towards the house. 

Clarence shakes his head. 

“Well, the other’s issues were a lot more … personal than my own,”

He waves his hands.

“Don’t misunderstand, I don’t like that Hargreeves man. But my duty is to the house. Which will far outlive him, you see?”

He smiles, proudly. 

“I was here first,”

Klaus nods. It makes sense, he supposes. Dude is obsessed with the infrastructure. A classic haunted house ghostie, pretty much textbook. He guesses despite his father’s recent disrespect for antique upholstery, the former owner might not have such a destructive axe to grind with Reggie. Certainly not one to dislodge him from here. 

Fair enough.

But he can’t help but ask-

“You don’t have to stay, you know. You said you had a son and a wife, they might be waiting for you? Or your father?”

“I could always-,”

He makes snipping hands, waving towards the tethers fading in and out behind the spirit. He’s a little surprised how certain he feels. Klaus is somehow sure that if he did that, snapped those connections this guy could leave, maybe even go free? 

It seems a shame to leave him trapped here, especially after everyone else has gone. 

But Clarence brushes him off.

“Don’t trouble yourself, friend. I have the place to myself thanks to you. It was getting awfully crowded in here. Now I can enjoy the house in relative peace,”

Alrighty then. 

“Of course, there’s much to be done. All of you have made a terrible mess of the place,”

Oops. 

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that uh- I’m sure they’ll fix it? Dad was always particular about keeping it presentable,”

Clarence sighs. 

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I do hope he restores the original plasterwork, my father took such care over it, and I just-,”

Mercifully, the ghost is cut off by a loud crack and a flash of blue. 

Klaus jerks back, raising his hands in defence, only to relax. 

It’s Five. 

“There you are,”

He stands a few feet away, still leaning heavily to his left. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, some pretty hefty bruising on his cheek and his bottom lip is starting to swell. 

In short, he looks like shit. 

He folds his arms and looks Klaus up and down. Somehow, despite his size and his obvious injuries, he still manages to look intimidating. 

Klaus greets him with an airy smile. 

“Hey Fivey, whatcha doing out here?”

Five raises an eyebrow. 

“I’ll give you three guesses,”

Klaus leans backwards, theatrically attempting to place his free hand over his heart, but the tremors detract a little from the action. 

“Aw, come to get lil old me?”

“If you insist on wandering off all the time, yeah,” 

Well, colour Klaus charmed. But he waves his occupied left hand.

“I’m afraid I’m a little busy at the moment, gimme a sec and I’ll be right in, m’kay?”

“... alright,” 

They stare at each other, Klaus fully expecting his brother to jump away again. 

But Five steps forward. 

Klaus isn’t sure why he tenses at first, but he certainly relaxes as his brother goes to sit beside him. Clarence quickly stands up to make room. 

Klaus grimaces to the ghost apologetically, before budging up to put a little distance between him and his brother. It was never wise to get into Five’s personal space, even if Klaus loved nothing more than pushing its boundaries now and again. 

It’s awkward. 

Five never knowingly seeks Klaus out unless he wants something, which he can maybe count three or four times in his life. Normally Klaus would be milking every second, but he’s oddly not in the mood for that right now. Maybe when his head stops pounding. 

So they sit in a weird silence as Klaus stretches the cigarette as long as he can, smoking right on the edge of the dregs in a fruitless attempt to put off going back inside. 

He goes to take another measured hit, when Five bridges the gap, leaning across him and pulling back his free arm followed by his coat. Klaus is stunned into compliance but flinches slightly as Five pushes his shoulders backwards. 

His brother then spreads out the tattered remains of his sweater. He examines the mess underneath for a second, with the angry bruising and dark red stains, then presses his hand against the smooth skin. 

He looks up. 

“How?” 

He doesn’t need to elaborate. Klaus shrugs, but grits his teeth. 

Here we go. 

“Oh you know, just special I guess,”

That’s not the answer Five wants. 

He asks again, his voice low and just a little bit dangerous. 

“ _How?_ ”

Okay, sheesh, Klaus will spill. At least, just a little.

“I uh, I don’t know? Guess it comes with the territory, the dead people guy just uh, can’t stay-,”

He waves his hands, suddenly conscious of the d-word. Judging by Five’s face, it’s the right call. 

He runs his fingers over the woundless flesh, before drawing back, pushing Klaus’s hair to the side and examining his un-bent neck. 

Klaus lets him, very aware that resistance would most definitely be futile at present. Best to let the little nut-job do what he wants. Better he does this than ask any more questions. 

Five leans back, apparently satisfied, before setting his steely gaze back to Klaus. 

He meets him cooly, trying very hard not to let his shaking hands show. 

“Did you know?”

Klaus swallows.

Uhhhhhh…

Five holds his gaze, his face like ice. 

Shit, okay. 

“I was, like .... 75% sure?” 

Five doesn’t ask how Klaus even knew at all. He’s not an idiot. 

Instead, he nods. 

Let it be known that his brother would never show emotion in public. But Klaus is not bad at reading people and he doesn’t miss the way Five's hand clenches and unclenches as it returns to his lap. 

Aw, he's worried about him. 

His brother looks up again, his jaw set and eyes firm. 

Klaus has never really had any trouble with the fact that his littlest sibling is almost pushing 60. He’d always erred on the side of crotchety, ever since the age of seven, but when he fell out of the sky it wasn't hard to see he’d done a lot of growing up while he’d been away, despite not outwardly showing it. 

But as Five’s eyes pierce straight through him, Klaus is struck by how he looks every single one of those years he spent lost and alone in the apocalypse.

He looks like he’s calculating at a million miles a minute. Considering he may have said something about finding Klaus’ definitely dead body in the end times, it might be a lot to take in. To be honest, Klaus doesn’t know how that works either, but he’d be lying if it didn’t give him some hope. 

He braces himself for a lecture.

“Don’t do it again,” 

Fair enough.

Klaus would tell him he sounds awfully like another misleadingly aged kid he knows. But he decides it won’t be good for his brother’s ego. 

Instead, he offers a mock salute. 

“Don’t plan on it,” 

And he doesn’t. 

Five holds his gaze for a few more seconds. He nods again, with a quiet _hm_ before standing up. 

“Hurry up and finish that thing, we’re all waiting on you,”

Deciding it’s best not to argue, Klaus takes one last puff before blotting out the dog end on the concrete. 

As he stands, he gestures behind to Clarence, the ghost standing quietly with absent interest beside him. He nods towards the door, and the ghost nods back. Guess he might as well see how this wraps up. 

Again, Five doesn’t jump away. Instead, he waits for Klaus as he walks towards the entrance, even pushing it open for him. Klaus steps gingerly, his bare feet chilled against the gravel. Remind him to see if he can find his shoes when he has a minute. 

Klaus takes the door from Five but stops as he catches something low and quiet under his brother’s breath. 

“You did good Klaus,”

Well, how about that. 

Before he can reply/ shout/ gloat to his heart’s content, his brother disappears in a flash. Only so many feelings the little tyke can process at once, Klaus supposes. 

He shoots an eyebrow to Clarence, before making his way back into the house.

\---

By the time Klaus reaches the living room, Five has resumed his monologuing. He’s pacing back and forth across the centre, his limp not putting him off in the slightest. The rest of his siblings are perched on overturned furniture or leaning up against the pillars. 

“-We don’t have much time, we have to deal with this before morning and people start coming to the house. We're lucky no one's come to see the fuss already,”

Luther raises his hand, leant next to the fireplace awkwardly between two chunks of rubble and a stuffed bison head. 

“What do you suggest? There’s no way we can have all this cleared up in a few hours. We can’t cover all our tracks,” 

Allison shakes her head.

“He’s right, even with a rumour they’ll know something went down here. We have to fill in as many gaps as we can so they don’t come looking for us,”

Diego nods. 

“We need to get out of here, ASAP,” 

Fives runs his hands through his hair, still not breaking his stride across the open carpet. 

“I’d love that Diego, but unfortunately, I’m nowhere near finished calculating our way out. Without a working briefcase, we’re stuck here, and even with a mind wipe I don’t like our chances of remaining under the radar while Dad’s still breathing-,”

“-that’s not what Dad said,”

The room jumps, turning to face Klaus, who hovers awkwardly in the doorway leaned against the wall. 

No one says a word, Allison giving a tight but genuine smile as Klaus slips into the fray, joining them in the room’s centre.

Waiting for a further prompt, Klaus fiddles with the edge of his sleeve, suddenly wishing for something to occupy his still trembling hands. As his fingers settle on the hair tie about his wrist, Luther bridges the gap. 

“What do you mean, Klaus?”

Klaus tries his best to relax his posture, but for some reason, he still squirms under the room’s unrivalled attention. 

“That’s why they grabbed me. They’ve been watching us the whole time. The old fart saw that you were on the edge of making it out-,”

Five raises a brow but keeps pacing.

“- so he decided now was the best time to throw the old spanner in the works, you know? Fish for info, look for a weak spot,”

He laughs shakily at the end there, but Diego straightens up.

Five considers the new information, pausing in the room’s centre before flicking his eyes to the left, where Hargreeves and the rest of the Sparrows still lay haphazardly in the corner. 

“Did he tell you why?”

Klaus shakes his head. 

“Nu-uh, nothing. Just got intel from the wall walking girl and decided to interrupt my evening walk, bit rude if you ask me but Dad always was one for the direct approach,” 

He laughs again, now sensing Luther’s eyes scan him head to foot. Klaus has never felt more like the elephant in the room. He’s not sure if he’d rather someone brought it up or ignored it until it burst. Just like Daddy would have wanted. 

Five taps his foot, impatiently. 

“I’m nowhere near complete, how would he even know? The calculations are something not even most commission members could-,”

He snaps his fingers.

“Oh, of course. That’s it,”

Five laughs, high and short. The rest of the room waits with bated breath to see if he’d share with the class. 

“What?”, Diego asks. 

“He always did know far too much about time travel ... acorn my ass,” 

Five looks up, nodding as if it’s totally obvious. 

He meets Diego’s eyes, spreading his hands and shaking his head. Number Two frowns, before leaning back. 

“Wait-,”

He leans forward.

“- Well shit,”

“ _What is it?_ ”

Yeah, Vanya, what is it?

Five rubs the back of his neck. 

“Maybe, just maybe-,“

He laughs again, honestly, he sounds a bit hysterical.

“- Dad might, just _might_ have some links with the commission,”

He what now?

“Or? At least, time travel technology,” 

“You’re serious?”

Five turns to Allison. 

“Deadly,”

He laughs again, resuming his pacing. 

“He might not have known shit in the sixtes, but he’s had time to adapt. There’s half a century between now and then, maybe he might have learned a trick or two,”

“But how?”, Diego asks, now standing up straight with a wince.

“No idea,”

Five’s hands jitter a little, itching for a pen or a piece of chalk.

“He has friends in high places, kept so many secrets I doubt even he knows them all. But if he knew I was on to something, that might mean he knows how to speed up the process even faster,”

Five looks over to where Reginald lies, silent and unmoving. 

“He could give us our way out,” 

Well damn.

Klaus matches the slightly stunned looks of the rest of his siblings. 

“So now what?”, he hears himself say. 

Five looks up. 

“Diego and I will search his office, if he’s been keeping tabs he may have the solution or the key to it amongst his papers, his notes - Allison?”

His sister nods.

“Go to the surveillance room and clear as much footage as you can. We can’t fix the house but we can try and erase any evidence that leads it back to us, alright?” 

Allison nods again, rising to her feet. Five turns back to the rest of them. 

“That leaves you three on babysitting duty. Try and move them into a position that's not a dogpile so when they wake up they aren’t crushing each other, and we can go from there, capiche?”

Luther and Vanya nod either side of him and Klaus mimics them dumbly. 

Five smooths his hair, taking a steadying, if still shaky, breath. 

“Right, okay, we meet back here in half an hour. We have to be out of the mansion before dawn,” 

With that, he and Diego disappear past Klaus and up the stairs, with Allison following behind. They leave the rest of them standing stiffly amongst the dirt and rubble. 

There's an uncomfortable silence, with Klaus still acutely aware of his brother and sister’s eyes burning into either side of his face. He flicks his gaze back to Clarence, who stands silently at the side of the room like he’s waiting for a little show to start. 

No time like the present. Klaus clears his throat. 

“So-,”

He claps his hands. 

“Dibs not carrying the Rubix cube. That bastard looks heavy,” 

\----

As it happens, it’s a little while before they start moving the sleeping Sparrows around. 

Vanya rightly points out that they may need to shift some furniture to prop them up, so the first fifteen minutes is spent kicking couches and settees back into position so their sort-of-not-quite siblings don’t wake up on the cement covered floor. 

They work in silence, Klaus throwing everything he can into the task. He's grateful for some distraction. 

He’s also sort of carrying on a non-verbal exchange with Clarence, who silently directs him where to stick the various items in the right place, but he doesn’t speak aloud. His siblings could probably guess who or what he’d be talking to, but Klaus gets the feeling it’s best not to break the silence just yet. 

As he shoves the coffee table back into place, carefully kicking concrete and chunks of wood out of the way, he is never not aware that his sister hasn’t taken her eyes off him since they started. He tries to ignore her, but it's hard once they have the main living area set up. Albeit surrounded by chaotic destruction with one of the walls so glaringly missing. 

Reggie’s really gonna have to fork out to get all this fixed, huh? 

He looks across to find Luther’s finished too, so they both turn their attention to the stack of Sparrows behind them. 

Best start at the top. 

Luther strides forward without a word, scooping the crow girl effortlessly into his arms and carrying her across to the centre, placing her almost gently on the cushioned seat. Klaus and Vanya follow suit, each taking either end of the metal dude (he really should have learned their names) and shifting him next to her. 

It takes no time at all, and within another ten minutes, once Luther drops the Cube on the floor beside the rest of them, all that's left are the two bodies all three of them have been putting off till last. 

Sir Reginald Hargreeves and his adopted son Benjamin Hargreeves lie side by side. They're both still and calm amongst the rubble, unaware of the destruction all around them. 

As Klaus straightens out the gloved woman’s ponytail, carefully avoiding her skin, and Vanya busies herself trying to get the purple man to stay upright, he turns to find Luther linger awkwardly. 

He sighs and joins his vigil. 

It’s strange, but he doesn’t feel much looking down at either of them. Even Not-Ben, with his familiar face and awful dress sense, does little to get a rise out of him anymore. Now he’s had a reminder of the real deal, the Sparrow is barely even a pale imitation. 

Klaus gets the sense that’s not the same for his brother.

“You alright buddy?”

Luther jumps a little like he forgot Klaus was there. 

“Yeah, yeah I am it’s just-,”

He sighs, letting his shoulders hunch. 

“It’s crazy, you know?”

Yeah, Klaus does know. 

“You said it, man,” 

They stand over the two men in silence for a bit. Klaus is aware of Vanya standing back behind him, before Luther speaks again. 

“I uh-,” 

He sighs. 

“You said it’s not them, and I know you’re right, I know that if we’d gotten that sooner, like you said, then maybe-,”

Luther’s eyes flick to Klaus’ middle. He’s starting to wish they’d stop doing that. 

“- I don’t know. But it’s … it’s almost them you know?”

“Dad was .... Dad. I get that now. But that’s Ben, you know? It’s not him, he’s gone. They both are. He’s not coming back-,” 

Luther shakes his head. It’s amazing how a guy as big as Number One can make himself look so small. 

“It’s weird, _wrong_ to be leaving them behind again,”

Klaus isn’t sure what to say. He’s never been great at the comfort, especially to Luther of all people. But he still nods and gently pats his arm. 

He tries to say something, but he’s interrupted again. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened, or what we _saw_ or where you … went, but-,”

Luther shifts on the spot. 

“I’m glad you’re okay. Like, I'd love to know how the hell you managed _that_ , and I hope you tell us because Klaus-,"

Luther shakes his head. 

"That was ... _something else_ I mean...,"

Klaus swallows. 

"Look, I know ... I know we haven’t always … you know."

He straightens up a little, his eyes still fixed forward. 

"I’m just so glad you didn’t- I’m so grateful we didn’t _lose you_ like we lost…,”

He looks down to the younger man at his feet. 

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. 

How the hell is Klaus supposed to respond to that?

Thankfully, it’s Number Seven to the rescue. 

“Shall we get this over with?” 

Vanya appears at Klaus’ left, and Luther stands up tall, regaining his composure. 

Klaus jumps at the chance, flashing a quick nod to his brother, who stiffly lifts his father into his arms, whilst Vanya and Klaus gingerly take either side of Not-Ben. As he walks backwards, awkwardly gripping the other man’s arm as they shift him towards the final couch, he notices how Vanya bites hard into her lip, her knuckles white against her skin and her eyes glued resolutely to the floor.

They lower him gently onto the cushions, and Klaus breathes out a sigh as his sister straightens out the legs and Luther fusses with Reginald behind him. 

When she stands up, Vanya is rigid, her face drawn and pale. To be fair, she has been fighting for her life half the night, but Klaus knows there’s something more to it. 

“You okay Van?”

His sister nods automatically but keeps her fists clenched. Klaus feels a slight vibration in the air as his little sister tries, and fails, to put on a brave face.

One right out of the Hargreeves rule book, right there. 

There’s a whole multitude of reasons for it too, the brutal battle, the chaos of the last few months etc. etc. Losing the love of your life can really take its toll too, he knows that well. 

But Klaus has always been perceptive when he wants to be. He knows that face. He knows the exact emotion she’s feeling as she looks down at a man who is her long lost brother, but not.

What he says comes out without thinking. 

“You know, it’s not your fault,”

She looks up. 

“What?”

Klaus keeps his face calm, still, desperately begging his voice to do the same. 

“When Ben left, our Ben. He should have moved on a long time ago, his time was always gonna come around”

He watches the other man lay silent, his chest rising and falling without care.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself” 

She blinks, her eyes shining. 

“Who else is there to blame, if I hadn’t, we never, _you_ never got to-,”

Klaus shakes his head, slightly amused at hearing his own words back to him. 

“Vanny, trust me, it was gonna happen eventually, you know? It’s technically the best thing that can happen to any ghost, nine times out of ten,” 

He pauses to swallow, looking straight ahead but aware of Vanya’s gaze at his temple. 

“And I know-,”

Come on Klaus, don’t mess this up. 

“I _swear_ that there is no way the spooky asshole would have rather have gone than helping you, you know?”

He looks down at his baby sister. 

“You hearing me?” 

She smiles a little, then looks down to hide her face, but there's still visible tension in her shoulders. 

Not-Ben shifts a little but remains out cold. Something catches in Vanya’s throat. 

“I just-,”

Her words stumble, and Klaus doesn’t interrupt. 

“I just … I miss him,” 

Klaus huffs out a little laugh. 

“Yeah, I know,” 

He offers an arm, and as she leans in he wraps it around her shoulders. He catches her eyes shift to his torso again but doesn’t comment. Thank god. 

Klaus squeezes his little sister tight. 

“You know-,“

He draws her closer.

“He told me to say he misses you too,” 

She stiffens. 

“Wait, how do you-,” 

“Are you done in here?”

Thank you, little girl in the sky. 

Diego and Five storm in, with Allison coming up behind. In his hand, Five holds a notebook, similar to the nightmare ones that Reggie had plagued them all with throughout their childhood. He brandishes it above his head. 

“Looks like we were right. Dad knew more than he let on, the sly bastard,”

He stops in front of where Reginald lies, flicking through the handwritten pages with something like half glee half fury. 

“This is our cheat sheet out of here, all the little briefcase ins and outs we need to get us home. I was close too, goddammit, it’s always the decimal points,”

He spares a look for Hargreeves, who sleeps unbeknownst to the activity all around him. 

“It might be the first Christmas present he’s ever gotten us that’s worth a dime,” 

Klaus doesn’t know about that. He got good money for those knuckle dusters they were bestowed in ‘04, the pawnshop downtown gave him $150 for his trouble. 

But he keeps that to himself as Five turns to Allison. 

“Are we good to go?”

She nods. 

“I’ve erased the footage from the last 48 hours, and gone back to when we arrived. I should be able to smooth over the rest, but we should aim to be out of here by tomorrow at the latest,”

Five nods. 

“Okay, let’s get on with it,”

Allison nods and steps forward. 

She turns to the Sparrows first, all perched on one side of the room. 

The rest of the Hargreeves step back and hold their breaths, Klaus taking the position in between Diego and the unseen Clarence.

Allison stretches out her hands.

“ _I heard a rumour … you thought someone else attacked the house … and you won … and carried on without question,_ ”

The order echoes through the room, but Allison keeps going. 

“ _I heard a rumour … that when you wake up … in an hour … you forgot the Umbrella Academy ever existed,_ ”

She steps back, and Klaus clocks Five visibly slouch with relief. 

Allison takes a breath and turns towards Reginald. 

Okay, this is going to be a whopper. 

But as Klaus watches his sister step towards him, he notices that Clarence has decided the living are no longer of interest. 

Instead, the ghost looks mournfully towards the destroyed fireplace, and sighs. He then wanders away, and drifts across the room, taking in the ruined furniture, the tattered paintings, the ripped cushions and wallpaper. 

Yeah, buddy, that’s pretty extensive. Klaus doubts the place will ever be the same again. 

It’s sad really. Poor guy is stuck here, refuses to leave, but part of Klaus wonders if Reggie will ever put his pride and joy back to how it was. It’ll be expensive, and take one hell of a long time. So much of it will be lost forever. 

An idea pops into Klaus’ head. 

He reaches out and grabs his sister’s arm. 

“Hey Alli, wait for a second,”

She stops, turning back to him with her face creased in confusion. 

“Klaus, what are you-,”

“I don’t suppose you could do me a teensy favour?” 

Before she can reply, he leans forward, whispering in her ear. 

Klaus can feel the rest of the room roll their eyes, but when she looks at him again, he gives her his best _please_. 

She looks over to Five, then back to Klaus, and nods quizzically. 

Klaus smiles and gestures her forward. 

She walks back up to Reginald, still puzzled and holds out her hands. 

“ _I heard a rumour … that when you wake up in an hour … you forgot about the Umbrella Academy … and never went looking for them again,_ ”

“ _I heard a rumour … that if you ever found anything related to the Umbrella Academy … you ignored it … and destroyed it immediately,_ ”

Allison then looks back to Klaus, who gives her a thumbs up, ignoring Diego’s face to his left. 

She shakes her head and turns back. 

“ _I heard a rumour … you put the house back exactly as it was … without question … starting with …_ ,”

She flicks her gaze back to Klaus, then continues. 

“ _… starting with the fireplace and the … antique plasterwork? I heard a rumour … you never let anything like this happen to the house ever again,_ ”

Her words take their hold, and Klaus flashes her a grateful grin. 

“Thanks, sis, you’re an angel,”

Diego elbows him, and Klaus turns pleasantly. 

“What was that? Thought you’d be all for trashing the place?”

Klaus smiles, spreading his hands. 

“Ah Di, you’re so right, burn it to the ground and all that,”

He looks over his brother’s shoulder. 

“But I owe a friend a favour,” 

He blows a kiss towards what the rest of the room can’t see. 

Clarence looks between him, then Allison, then Reginald, then back to him. He steps forward, his eyes wide and bright. 

“Did you just-?”

Klaus nods his head with a mischievous grin.

Clarence holds his hands up to his mouth.

“I don’t know what to say?”

Klaus shrugs.

“Well, if you’re staying here for the foreseeable, have to make sure all is present and correct for you, you know?”

Clarence nods then holds out his hand. 

Klaus takes it, letting the lingering chill tighten in his gut. 

He shakes with thin air, and Clarence smiles. They let go, and the spirit walks away with his hands behind his back, willing to leave the siblings alone now as he returns to watching over his family home. 

Klaus does like a happy ending. Or at least the promise of one. 

He looks back at his family, whose faces are a wonderful mixture of exhausted, incredulous and … confused. 

Is it funny? Or is it starting to get old?

Guess he’ll find out, 

Luther clears his throat. 

“Uh … are we done here?” 

Five looks down at Hargreeves, then the Sparrows, taking a brief rest on Klaus once again, then nods. 

“Yeah, we’re done here,”

He rolls his shoulder and turns towards the exit. 

“Let’s go, before they wake up,” 

Best news Klaus has heard all day. 

He claps his hands.

“Great, love it. Time to all hold hands and blow this joint,”

Five shakes his head. 

“Sorry idiot, I’m not jumping all of you like this,” gesturing to both his limp and the blood oozing out of his forehead. 

Klaus fails to suppress a whine.

“Aw man, does that mean we have to walk back?”

He looks down at his bare feet. 

“But I still can’t find my shoes! I think this asshole ate them,”

He nods towards Not-Ben, still oblivious, and will be oblivious ever after. 

Surprisingly, it’s Vanya who responds. 

“Uh, actually we kind of… stole a car,” 

Oh brilliant. Klaus snorts, dramatically clutching his proverbial pearls. 

“My siblings? Steal a poor innocent civilian automobile!”

He gestures towards Reginald, who has started to slip down in his chair. 

“What would our dearest father say?”

Diego rolls his eyes. 

“Well maybe if someone hadn’t been kidnapped at such short notice we could have had time to rent one before they got their ass kicked in,” 

Klaus elbows him, disguising a wince as his stomach protests at the sudden movement. 

This finally prompts the group to break up, and Klaus goes to follow. 

It only just occurs to him as he reaches the arch to look back. His family files past him as he pauses, taking one last look at the Sparrows draped across the furniture. 

Reginald is faced towards him, but Klaus can just make out the back of Not-Ben’s head, the rise and fall of his shoulders causing it to shift from side to side. 

He stands there a moment. 

The house is quiet. Klaus thinks it might be the first time he’s experienced true _silence_ under this roof, well, ever. 

It’s a little uncanny, to be honest. 

He looks at them all. 

It’s strange, after everything, including his own murder mind you, he can’t shake the feeling that maybe things could have been different. 

They’re all the same really, all the product of Reginald’s crusade. The Umbrellas were just as likely to be deadly, shit he knows better than any of them how much collateral damage there could be even with the best intentions. They had just as many reasons to fight back too. Heck, judging by what Allison and Vanya found out, the Sparrows have done a fair amount of city saving in their time too.

They just didn’t have the push to make them leave.

Maybe one day they’ll get out, realise what Hargreeves is and find their own lives as they did. He gets the feeling the seeds are there, even if they hadn’t sprouted. 

But there’s not much the Umbrellas can do for them now, not if they want Allison’s rumour to stick.

It’s time to leave them behind, to whatever their fate might be. 

He feels like he should say something, a goodbye, a final affirmation against them all. 

His Father, the Sparrows. Ben. 

But he thinks he already has. 

He lingers a second more when he hears a shout behind him. 

“Hurry up Klaus, Five’s not getting any younger,” 

Klaus smirks and turns away.

He glides through the atrium with ease, barely taking in the shattered stained glass all over the floor and the precariously dangling chandelier. He gives one last wave to Clarence, who lingers, content, at the top of the stairs. He then pushes through the front door into the cool, early morning air. 

Klaus shouts ahead to his siblings, who gather around a beat-up kompressor at the end of the street. 

“I call shotgun!” 

\---- 

He’s almost done packing.

Klaus has just shoved the last of his 25 cent paperbacks in his bag, creasing the pages in a manner Ben would only call heretical as he tries make them fit in between his thrifted clothes. 

He hasn’t got a lot of stuff, so as he lifts his dearest cowboy hat off the door peg, Klaus realises he’s now got a lot of time on his hands. 

Five has estimated an ETD of about 7:30, leaving Klaus around three hours to kill before they finally leave this timeline behind for good. Huzzah. 

If he wanted to be a responsible member of the team, he should really use this time to go and chip in with the rest of the clear out. But honestly? His family is starting to grind on him a little. 

Since the car ride home, without the Sparrows on their mind, they’re all in a cycle of looking like they expect him to either drop dead or burst into tears at any moment. Klaus doesn’t particularly feel like either, thanks very much. 

Allison has tried to corner him twice, once in the kitchen and once in the hallway, with Klaus slipping away before the conversation veers towards, well, everything from the last few hours.

Ben would probably tell him to stop being an idiot, but it’s been a very long day, and Klaus doesn’t know how to explain what happened without poking the already very tenuous truce with a stick. 

So no, Klaus thinks staying out of it is a good idea, for now. But he doesn’t want to stay in his room. 

It’s grey, and dark, and looks even more depressing without his small collection of crap spread across it. He needs a walk, and preferably some nicotine. 

It's ironic, but for the first time in his life he’s gutted there aren’t any ghosts about. Klaus wouldn’t say no to a mini field trip right now, itching for some activity to fill the time. But alas, his spiritual schedule is also clear, and he’s not sure he wants to go to the trouble of seeking someone out right now. He feels like he may have pulled a psychic muscle after his party tricks this morning, and isn't in the mood to go to too much effort. 

But he has to do something, he wants a distraction, maybe a bit of polite conversation. But all he has are his well-meaning siblings and that just a whole can of worms and - 

Wait a sec.

Klaus is struck by a brainwave.

Didn’t he promise, only the other night, to keep in touch with somebody?

He grins and jumps off his bed with a creak. 

He crosses to the other side of his room where his abandoned goods lay. It’s rubbish mostly, tobacco wrappers and receipts, but it also has a few things too big to justify taking with them.

During his adventures, he’d picked up some necessary resources vital to ghostbusting. It’s mainly city maps, old notes, spare bits of paper, but Klaus also acquired himself a handy dandy, old fashioned phone book. 

If ain’t broken, etc. etc. Five had been onto something in the sixties. 

He flips it open, then swipes through looking for a last name, then a first. He hopes he’s got the spelling right, as there are a few options, but it only takes a minute before he hits his target.

Bingo.

Actually, the address is not that far from here. He’ll be there and back in no time, all before his siblings even notice. 

Klaus pulls on his sort of ruined sneakers (RIP his boots, they did good service), and puts on his hat. He then fishes for some backie in his bag, followed by some rolling papers and slips quietly out of his room.

The rest of the family are packing up the kitchen, erasing their presence as well as they can and carting box loads of papers into the garbage outside.

He’ll return before they know it, so as much as he probably should let them know where he's going, he doesn’t really want to call attention to himself any more than he already has.

So he silently slides into the bathroom and jumps out onto the fire escape. 

He scrambles down the steps with ease, landing hard on the asphalt and beginning to roll his cigarette as he walks. He thinks he’s got away with it when he hears a shout behind him

“Hey!”

Hm? 

Klaus turns on his ankle, the rolling paper held at his lips when he sees who it is. 

Dammit.

It’s Diego. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Klaus stays frozen in the centre of the alley, his hands stopped halfway between his chest and his face. 

“Uh … out?”

Diego crosses his arms. He’s managed to patch himself up since the fight, but his arm is looking worse for wear and he’s leaning a little to one side. 

“And you didn’t think you ought to tell us?”

“Do I need to?”

“Yeah, actually,”

Well, no one told him that. He is a grown-up after all. Allegedly.

“Well … uh sorry. I won’t be long, I just need to … finish something,”

“What something?”

Klaus swallows. 

“I’m meeting someone if mother duck allows it. May I please be excused, dearest brother mine,” 

Diego raises an eyebrow but unfolds his arms. 

That’s good enough for him.

Klaus finishes constructing his cigarette and tucks it behind his ear. He goes to turn without another word when he hears-

“Can I come?”

Sorry?

Diego shifts awkwardly. 

“Come again?”

“Can I … come with you? Wherever you’re going?” 

Klaus was not expecting that.

“Don’t they uh … need you? Up there?”

He points to the open bathroom window.

“No, not really,”

Klaus can’t help voicing his suspicion. 

“You on babysitting duty or something?”

Diego stiffens. 

“What? No, Klaus I, uh-,”

He runs his hands through his hair. 

“Can’t I just tag along?”

Klaus eyes him with sceptically. 

Diego really does look like crap. He’s still in the clothes from last night (Klaus changed out of his and went straight in the shower practically the moment he stepped through the door), and that is definitely builder’s dust coating his hair. 

Fetching.

But when Klaus takes in his bitten lip and puppy-dog expression that could rival Luther’s, he realises that his brother is sincere. 

Oh. Okay then.

“Well, if you’re sure, I guess I mean … it’s nowhere special?”

Diego visibly relaxes.

“That’s fine, wherever you want to go,”

Klaus takes out his lighter. 

“Alright then, _vamanos,_ ”

He gestures to the end of the alley, and both brothers begin their walk down the street.

It’s late afternoon, so the avenues are fairly busy. People slip in and out of shops, chatting amiably and sitting outside cafes and restaurants. Bikes and cars rush past and pigeons coo on the rooftops overhead. 

Klaus isn’t used to seeing these streets so animated, but he’ll admit it's a nice change of pace. Makes him think of the first timeline, wandering the back alley’s with Ben before the evening rolled in. 

He and Diego have found a slightly uneasy silence. Klaus has his cigarette to occupy him for now, but as they weave in and out of pedestrians and cross various roads, he’s very aware that Diego has been building up the courage to say something since he let him come.

Klaus thinks he can guess what it is, but he’s in no mood to prompt him right this second.

They turn off the high street and start heading towards the residential district. They pass fewer and fewer stores and see more and more brownstone buildings, and Diego seems closer and closer to opening his big mouth.

When they eventually reach the entrance to the path across the park, something finally pushes him forward. 

“So who are you meeting?”

Klaus takes a puff. 

“Just a friend I met, out and about, a few nights ago,”

“Right,”

Diego swallows. 

“When you say friend, do you mean like, your friends in the mansion?”

Klaus keeps his eyes ahead. 

“Maybe,”

Diego nods, pursing his lips. 

“You got a lot of these … friends?”

Klaus shrugs.

“Sort of? That’s complicated,”

He waves his hands.

“This one has uh … stuck around a bit longer than the others,”

Diego nods but still looks confused. 

“Is this what you’ve been doing then, seeing your … friends?”

Klaus nods. 

“Yeah pretty much. So much city, so little time,”

Diego nods again, but his face twists.

“Since when-,”

He pauses. Klaus raises an eyebrow.

Diego sighs, biting his lip. 

“Since when were they your … friends?”

Fair question. Klaus hasn’t made his possibly longest-standing (though by no means his biggest) character flaw a secret. 

“Since we got here,”

Diego takes a short breath, and swallows. 

“Why?”

Here we go. Round two of a brother questioning Klaus’ ethereal life choices. 

Let’s get it right this time. 

Klaus keeps his voice neutral. 

“Well, it’s been kind of weird not having a dead guy at my elbow, you know?”

Klaus takes another drag of his cigarette. 

“Decided might as well give the rest of them a try,”

He’s not lying. Actually, as far as Klaus’ sentences go, that's probably the biggest proportion of blatant truth he’s given to his family in a long time. At least on this side of the veil. 

Diego swallows again, tensing his jaw like he does when he's trying to hold his nerve. 

“Do you-,”

Klaus doesn’t interrupt. It’s best not to with Diego. 

“Was Ben always there? Before?”

Klaus sighs. 

“Yeah, he was,” 

“How long?” 

Klaus takes a drag. 

Here we go, let’s not do this again.

“Since the funeral,”

Diego clenches his fist.

“Oh,”

“Yeah,”

Awkward. 

It’s a few beats before Diego speaks again. 

“ Okay I, I get why you didn’t say anything ...before,”

Oh, he does, does he? 

“-But why not later? After the theatre? Why didn’t you-,”

Right, breaking the interrupting rule just this once. 

“Yeah, that. Uh, I was being an ass? To be fair, Ben was a bit too I uh-,”

Klaus shrugs. 

“We’ve sorted it now, water under the bridge. I was dumb, so was he. I’m sorry I couldn’t get my head out of my ass sooner. We’ve squared it,”

Diego nods but frowns.

“Wait, how have you-,”

Klaus looks at him. 

Diego blinks. 

“Oh,” 

“Yeah”

“When you-,”

“Yeah,” 

They’re still maintaining pace, striding across the grass to their destination, but Klaus decides to let Diego catch his breath a bit and slow down. 

Diego is doing his best to put on a brave face, but it’s not working. 

“Is that new? Did you know that you could-,”

Diego gestures towards him, again his eyes flicking to his middle. 

Klaus shrugs. 

“Pretty much, yeah,”

“How?”

Klaus looks at him again, both eyebrows raised. 

Diego chokes. 

“What, how? _When?_ ”

Klaus spreads his hands. 

“A few pills here, some booze there. Oh and I hit my head pretty hard too, back in the first apocalypse,” 

He reaches out to pat Diego’s arm. 

“I guess God just thinks I’m far too pretty to kick it,” 

Diego grinds to a halt. Klaus has to stop too, standing in the middle of the grassy trail.

It’s empty, only a dog walker in the distance to intrude. His brother’s eyes are wide and his mouth agape. 

“And you didn’t think to, I don’t know, _share_ that information?” 

There’s a meter between them. Diego’s face is a mix of horror, betrayal and …sadness. 

Diego is sad. 

Klaus isn’t sure what to say. Actually, now he’s a little pissed.

“I don’t know Di, there never was a great time to bring it up. Actually, I think I did? Maybe? But you guys were all busy with, you know, _the end times_ ,”

“I figured it might not be a priority,” 

He gestures around him. 

“Besides, it’s not a big deal. I got better!”

“Not a big- Klaus?”

“ _What_ Di?”

His brother steps forward, both hands out like he’s trying to tame a horse or something. 

“Would you not have said anything? If - If _that_ didn’t happen?” 

Klaus thinks. 

Technically it had been three years since he’d last pushed up the proverbial daisies. He didn’t have time to worry then and afterwards, it’s troubling philosophical implications had just faded into the background of his life. 

A fact of his existence.

He might not be able to die.

Maybe it should bother him more, maybe it does and he’s just really not thinking about it, but honestly? There’s nothing he can really do about it. 

He probably would have kept it to himself.

His silence confirms Diego’s suspicions. 

“ _Jesus_ Klaus I-,”

“What do you want me to say?”

“ _Christ_ I don’t know? Anything!” 

He rubs his hand over his face. 

“You know? For someone who talks as much as you do, you sure say a whole lot of nothing,”

Hey now-

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean, _urgh,_ ” 

Diego stops, taking a shaky, steadying breath. He composes himself for a second, but his jaw is tight and voice low. 

“You spend the last few months barely saying two words to us. You wander off doing God knows what at night, but you’re clearly not drunk, or high-,”

Awww, he noticed. 

“Then you get yourself kidnapped, then you-,”

Diego stumbles, looking away. 

“ _You died_ , Klaus. You were killed right in front of us all, by _Ben_ of all people, and you weren’t moving and there was so much blood and -,”

“We thought we’d lost you. After everything, I thought we’d lost another brother,”

“And _then-_ ,”

Oh god, here we go. 

“Then you just get back up, like nothing happened and just-,” 

Diego looks up at him. 

“Since when can you do _that_ Klaus?”

Umm. 

Klaus supposes it is a lot to unpack. 

Well...

“In my defence, I didn’t know I could do that either?” 

Diego shakes his head. 

“I just-,”

“The others might be able to dance around it, but I just need to know, Klaus-,” 

“Why didn’t you say anything? Shit, why haven’t you said anything since? Why are you being so …,”

He gestures to all of him. 

Rude. 

Diego looks up, clearly expecting answers now, but Klaus isn’t sure what he can give here. 

But he gets the feeling he’s going to have to try. 

Urgh, why did Ben have to be the one so good at … feelings. 

“Shit, I don’t know Di-,”

He runs his hands across his arms. 

“It’s been a long few years, you know? Shit happens, like, a lot of it. You’ve got your own problems, and to be honest?”

Klaus swallows, not meeting Di’s eyes. 

“This rabbit hole might go a bit … deep, you know?” 

“Besides, you guys had it covered. I was never any good at planning, strategy BS, figured it was best to steer clear, you know?”

He tries to add a smile, but it falls flat. 

Diego groans, but takes a breath. 

The city sky hums with gentle ambience. The park is bathed in warm yellow light from the late summer’s day. 

His brother sighs. 

“Look, I know I’ve said, _we’ve all said_ shit in the past, but Klaus?”

He reaches out, his palm open and flat like he’s trying to offer something. 

“You’re part of this family, team zero and all that crap, you know?”

Diego’s face is open and raw and honest, his eyes large and almost pleading as he tries to force whatever he wants to say out of his throat. 

“You’ve got to tell us what’s going on, alright? I promise, even if they don’t listen...,”

He stops, clenching his jaws, then nods, looking him dead in the eye.

“ _I will_ okay?”

Klaus blinks. 

Diego looks like he’s trying to chew a wasp, his mouth opening and closing like he can’t decide to say more. He’s flustered and angry and awkward, and it’s a little bit hilarious if it wasn’t such … a lot. 

This family has never been any good at heart to heart. But bless him for trying. He always was squishy on the inside, despite his love for all things sharp. 

Klaus takes a moment, inhaling one last hit of his cigarette before walking over to a nearby trashcan and stubbing it out. 

He turns back to his brother, who stays exactly where he was. 

“Yeah, yeah alright Di,” 

Diego blinks. 

“Wait, really?”

Klaus shrugs. 

“Fuck it, sharing is caring, amiright?”

His brother loosens his shoulders. 

“Good, yeah, yeah … good,”

Then he smiles with just a slight twitch in his lip. 

“I don’t want to have to stalk your ass again,”

Wait. 

Klaus gawks, scandalized. 

“Exsqueeze me? What do you mean, stalk?”

Diego points at him, but without accusation. 

“How’d you think we knew you were gone, idiot? Been keeping an eye, and when you didn’t come back from your ghost walks, I knew something was up,” 

He laughs a little. 

“We’d just got Five down for his nap too, but we needed all hands on deck, and when we found you on some gas station cams we knew exactly where to look,”

Oh. 

Oh. 

That’s nice of him. 

A little creepy. 

But … nice. 

Klaus smacks him on the shoulder, which Diego doesn’t stop. 

“Aww Di, you do care,”

“Shut up asshole,”

“You big softie you, staying up for lil me? Making sure I’m fed and watered, you sweetheart-,”

Diego shoves him back, but he doesn’t look that pissed. 

“Piss off, I was just making sure you didn’t get your ass handed to you - and guess what?”

“Hey! I didn’t do so bad - I almost made it out, and I saved your asses didn’t I?”

Diego stops again, his face softening just a bit. 

“Yeah you did,”

He frowns. 

“I don’t think any of us have said thanks, did we?”

Klaus shrugs, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious again. 

“Well, uh-,”

His brother swipes his shoulder. 

"I mean, it was fucking terrifying Jesus Christ, we _will_ be talking about where the fuck _that_ came from-,"

Fair enough, to be honest. Finally, his spooky teenage branding is coming back to haunt him. 

"But Klaus?"

He looks up.

“Thanks, for coming back to us,” 

Oh. 

Klaus smiles, then smirks again.

Now is his chance. 

“Well you know, all in a day's work. Number Four to the rescue, honestly what would you all do without me-,”

“Alright that’s enough, you can shut up now-,”

“Oh no, I'm never letting you forget this! What a damsel you made too, honestly-,”

Diego shoves him harder. 

“Piss off, asshole,”

Klaus laughs.

Geez Di, so sensitive. 

His brother rubs his neck, then sighs-

“Come on, we don’t want to leave your friend waiting,”

Klaus agrees. There’s only so many heartfelt confessions he can take in one day. 

“You’re absolutely right. Come on, little brother, we have places to be-,”

Diego snorts.

“I’m sorry? In what universe am I the little brother here?”

Klaus grins, suddenly filled to the brim with a wonderful, simmering glee. 

Oh, this is going to be hilarious. 

“I’m like four years older than you dude,” 

Diego’s face drops. 

“You’re _what_?” 

\----

By the time Diego’s recovered (" _Technically, you're the second youngest now" - "What?" - "Don't know what to tell you man" - “ _Fucking time travel!_ ”), they’ve just about reached their destination. _

__

__

It’s a pretty nice apartment complex, old but reasonably kept considering where they were in the city. The tower stretches about ten stories up, and Klaus can make out a few figures drifting in and out of view in the windows. 

There are steps rising to the front door, but instead, Klaus cuts round to the left, leading his brother to a little picnic table he spies tucked away out of public view.There’s no one about at the minute, which makes this easier, but Klaus has learned that privacy is best for this sort of thing. 

He flops down on the seat, Diego following suit. 

“So uh, is your friend about?”

Klaus shakes his head. 

“Uh, gimme a sec,” 

Klaus closes his eyes. 

He feels for that chill in his middle, and it rears back up with ease. Klaus exhales and reaches out. 

_Hey, are you here? It’s only me_

There's silence for a second when Klaus feels a little tug in response. 

When he opens his eyes, there are three men on the picnic table. 

Harvey smiles, sitting across from the two brothers, and gives Klaus a wave. 

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” 

Klaus grins back. 

“Oh you know, just in the neighbourhood, figured I’d come to you this time,” 

“Wasn’t sure if I’d see you again,”

“Oh, I’m like gum on a shoe. Once I'm stuck there’s no getting rid of me,”

He winks, but then Diego looks between them nervously. 

“Uh, are they here or-,” 

Oh, yeah. 

He looks over to the older man. 

“I’m sorry, do you mind if I-,”

He waves his hands up and down toward him.

“-just for my brother’s sake?”

Harvey nods. 

“If you want son, I don’t mind,”

“Excellent, you’re a star,” 

Klaus holds out his hands, curling them into fists. He exhales, tugs, letting the chill drip down to the pads of his fingers.

He feels Diego shift next to him. 

“Uh - hi?”

Harvey is encircled in a faint halo of blue. He looks down at himself, probably adjusting to being visible for the first time in years, before remembering his manners. 

“Nice to meet you, son,”

Right, introductions. 

“Harvey, this is my brother, Diego. Please excuse his appearance, he’s had a long day,” 

“Di - this is my friend, Harvey. Play nice,” 

His brother scowls, then waves awkwardly, his eyes switching between the ghost, to Klaus, to Klaus’ glowing hands. 

Harvey leans against the tabletop, the bright orange on his shirt clashing wonderfully with his cool blue glow.

“So what brings you to my neck of the woods, Klaus? Everything alright?”

Klaus smiles and mostly answers honestly. 

“Oh yeah, everything’s grand,”

“Actually, I’ve, well we’ve, come to say goodbye,”

Harvey’s face falls, just a little.

“So soon? It’s only been two days!”

Has that all it’s been? 

“Yeah, well they’ve been pretty full-on,”

He laughs, nervously. 

“But we’ve finally got a way back home,”

Harvey nods, his hands folded on the table in front of him. 

“Well. I’m glad to hear it, son. When are you going?”

Klaus glances up at the sky, which has just started to shimmer with a light orange tint.

“Um, now-ish? You’re my last stop before we make the jump,”

The ghost’s face softens, looking oddly touched. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, well I made a promise didn’t I?”

He’s conscious of Diego continuing his Tennis umpire impression, flicking back and forth between the two trying to put the vague pieces together. 

Bless. 

“You ready to go? All packed up?”

“You bet! Not much to pack up, if I’m honest,”

“Good good,”

Harvey creases his brow and gives Klaus a strange look.

He glances between him and Diego.

“You all leaving together, on the same page, so to speak?”

_Have you done what you said you would?_

Klaus shrugs and tilts his hand up and down. 

“Oh yeah, we’re a bit of a package deal at this point, no matter how hard we try,”

_We’re getting there._

Harvey nods, satisfied. Klaus rests his haloed palms on the table.

“So, how’s the hubby? Keeping well?”

Harvey shrugs.

“Oh, he’s up there watching one of his trashy soaps. Really, he has such terrible taste,”

He laughs fondly, but his face softens. 

“To be honest, he’s not doing so hot. His heart ain’t what it used to be you hear? Marv partied hardback in the day, think it’s not long till it catches up to him,”

“I’m sorry,”

Klaus is surprised to hear Diego speak.

Harvey shakes his head.

“It’s alright son. It’s been a long time coming. Our kid is grown, and it’s rude to keep a gentleman waiting this long anyhow,”

Diego blinks. But he nods along with Klaus, despite his obvious confusion at the admission of wanting your living husband to hurry up and kick it. 

Guess he’s learning death is just a little bit more complicated than he thought. 

Klaus leans across the wooden slats.

“Is there anything you need doing, before we head? Any unfinished business you’ve got lingering about?”

Klaus waves his hands. He hasn’t known Harvey that long, but he likes him. Likes him a lot actually, and it feels weird to leave him behind without doing something in return.

“We’ve got time, I could write a note for Marv or something?”

Harvey frowns.

“Uhh, I don’t think so son. That would just confuse the poor devil. All smooth sailing for me, just a shame to lose the company,”

He smiles to himself though.

“I’d kill for a Tiger beer, but I don’t think you can do much about that,”

Klaus laughs.

“Yeah, sorry man. I wouldn’t mind one myself, but I think the import is a bit out of my price range,”

He leans back, then remembers himself.

“Besides, I’m technically supposed to be off that sort of stuff now, I know, such a _downer,_ ”

Harvey laughs, but Diego taps his arm.

“Uh, Tiger beer?”

Whoops.

Before Klaus can jump in, Harvey’s already striding down memory lane.

“Oh yeah, we used to drink it out in ‘Naam like fish. Tastes like piss mind you but hey, you take what you can, ain’t I right Klaus?”

Klaus tries, unsuccessfully to mime Harvey into not talking.

It’s too late.

Diego’s face is straight back to “wtf” mode, and gives Klaus a _look_.

Harvey’s face falls.

“Ah, have I stepped in something here?”

Klaus grimaces.

“Uh, to be fair, I was gonna have to get round to that eventually,”

Diego’s mouth falls open.

“Vietnam,”

Klaus swallows, his mouth suddenly very dry.

“Yeah,”

“When?”

“That’s kind of a funny question-,“

“ _Klaus_ ,”

Okay fine. By the time they’re done with this mess, he’s gonna need one hell of a flow chart.

“When when? 2019, the first time around before ... everything,"

Diego doesn't move, and Klaus taps the table in anticipation. 

"Where when?”

He braces himself.

“1968,”

Diego blinks.

All three men look between each other, and Klaus grits his teeth.

“Okay,”

Diego nods.

“Sure, why not,”

He turns to Harvey.

“Did you know him there then?”

Klaus breathes a heavy, shaking, sigh of relief. 

“Not exactly, probably spun in similar circles of course, but never met. We found each other here, kindred spirits so to speak,”

Diego nods, his face open and calm, but Klaus can tell some serious gears are turning on the inside. Obviously, some major compartmentalisation is going on here. It’s not the end, but Klaus is grateful for the break. 

He leans across next to Klaus, rubbing the back of his neck, then asking-

“I bet it was quite something, out there?”

He looks back to Klaus.

“Tell me about it?”

-—-

It’s well over an hour before Klaus clocks the time again.

Between them, it turns out Klaus and Harvey have a lot of yarns to spin. Klaus talks loud and animated, enjoying Diego’s smirks and amused disbelief. Having Harvey to back him up is also surprisingly nice as he recounts tales of bars, bands and frankly metric tonnes of booze.

It’s good actually, to talk about it. Even with Ben, he’d never found the right words to get it all out. So it’s nice to have somewhere for it all to go, even if he’s mostly focusing on the good bits. 

He edits out things where can, the mud, the blood, all shit. The biggest one being well … Dave. 

He’s not ready to go there, not yet. He still stings a little over the Vets bar, though that was years ago now.

Maybe someday. 

Diego even jumps in now and then. He offers old stories from the police academy, his vigilante days, even some little tidbits from his time in the sixties that Klaus hadn’t heard. 

The time goes nowhere, and it’s only when Diego challenges Harvey on his taste in Beatles albums ( _"Nah man it has to be the White Album for me its good shit" - "No son, they'd lost their touch by '65, and I was there" - "Well maybe you weren't paying attention" - "Honestly Di, when did you get so basic?"_ ), when Klaus realises how dark it’s got.

It’s a real shame, but they’ve got places to be.

“Hey fellas? You know I hate to break up the party, but I think Five might have our asses if we miss another briefcase deadline,”

Diego looks up and curses.

“Ah shit, you’re right,”

Harvey nods. 

“It’s a pity fellas, it’s been nice to have some conversation for once,”

Klaus grimaces, but Harvey waves it off.

“Ah don’t worry son, I’ll be out of here soon enough. Besides, you’ve both got whole lives to lead,”

Surprisingly, Klaus has to agree.

He stands, Diego following suit.

His brother then reaches across and shakes Harvey’s hand, his eyes widening just a little as his skin makes contact with what should be empty space.

“It was nice meeting you sir,”

Aw, such a gentleman.

“You too young man. You watch out for your brother now,”

Klaus snorts, but Diego looks suddenly serious.

“Don’t you worry about that, I’ve got eyes on him 24/7,”

That’s a bit worrying, to be frank, but Klaus can appreciate the sentiment.

“I’m glad to hear it,”

He turns to Klaus.

“Good to see you son, thanks for coming to say goodbye,”

Klaus grins, waving his still glowing hands. He’s honestly amazed he’s kept it up this long, it’s like he doesn’t even have to think about it anymore. 

“No worries, I hope you’re not waiting too long if you know what I mean?”

The older man nods. 

“Ah, I’m sure it’ll be no stretch at all. Bless him, Marv always took his sweet ass time,”

Klaus nods. He’d have liked to have met Marv, seems his type. But he can’t have everything he supposes, and if Harvey doesn’t want to interrupt his final days it’s not for him to go snooping, 

He steps out of the bench and is about to lead Diego back home when something occurs to him.

Just one last one, just for today. 

“Hey, Harvey?”

“Yes, Klaus?”

Klaus holds out his hands.

“I don’t suppose you could do me one more, itty bitty favour?”

Harvey puts his hands in his pockets and nods.

“Not sure what I can do you for, but shoot, I’ll try my best,”

Klaus smiles, and Diego looks at him strangely. It’s becoming quite the look for now. 

“Well, when you do finally, you know, move on and all that, could you two pass on a little message for us? For our brother?”

Harvey’s face breaks into a gentle grin.

“Sure thing, I can do that for you. What’s his name?”

“Ben, Ben Hargreeves, There’s no family resemblance, unfortunately, except maybe in attitude?”

Diego smirks, but it’s weak. Like he’s trying to catch up. 

Harvey shakes his head but smiles. 

“I’m sure we’ll manage. What’s the message?”

“Uh, could you-,“

“- Can I do it?”

Klaus snaps his head to his left. Diego meets him, his face is a little pale and his breath uneven. 

His brother looks up at him, a little nervously like he’s asking for permission.

Klaus shrugs, pushing down a smile, and gestures forward.

“Sure man, of course,”

Diego swallows and turns to Harvey.

“I don’t know how this uh, works, but-,"

He rubs his hand across his neck, and shifts from foot to foot.

“C-c- could you-,"

He breathes an almost silent curse but starts again. 

“C-could you tell Ben I miss him, _we all_ miss him, but I uh-,"

He nods to himself.

“I’m sorry we didn’t have more time before, and thanks for looking out for all of us, especially this one-,”

He jabs an elbow under Klaus’ ribs, who splutters. 

“-and I uh, hope he’s okay, up there? He deserves a bit of peace, after 17 years with just Number Four for company,” 

Piss off Di, he’s a delight and they all know it. 

He shifts.

“Yeah, if you could tell him that I’d, _we’d_ all be really grateful,”

He looks down, biting his lip, but Klaus smiles, reassuringly.

Harvey steps back.

“Yeah, I can do that for you boys,”

Klaus rubs his hands together and smiles again. 

“Thanks, we appreciate it,”

Harvey nods, firmly, and looks up to the darkening sky. 

“Well, I won’t keep either of you any longer. Go do what you’ve got to do,”

He takes Klaus by the shoulder and pats it gently. 

“Bye-bye now, look after yourselves,”

Diego echoes and Klaus gives him a wave [GOODBYE] and lets the light on his hands fade. 

Harvey flickers out of corporeality, then gives Klaus one last nod.

“Good luck son,”

He disappears through the wall.

Klaus hums and spins around gracefully.

He’s glad he did that.

“You ready to go Di?”

His brother nods, silently. He’s taking in the alley, the city, the early evening sunset.

He’s also looking at Klaus. He’s not shocked, or angry, nothing like that.

He’s seeing him.

“You good?”

Diego nods.

“Yeah, yeah I am,”

He sighs.

“Let’s bounce, before our family decides to leave us behind or some shit,”

—--

It doesn’t take long to get back to the apartment.

They get home with ten minutes to spare, but of course, Five still finds cause to lose his rag.

“And what time do you call this? Have we learned nothing, _nothing_ from last time?”

Once again, Klaus is struck by how much Five sounds like Reggie when he’s pissed.

Best to keep that to himself right now. 

“ _Where_ have you two been, hm? What could possibly have been more important than this?”

Klaus opens his mouth, but Diego gets there before him.

“ Hey man, calm down. Just tying up some loose ends,“

He gestures to his right, where Klaus hovers awkwardly. 

“Klaus had an errand to run so I decided to tag along. It’s no biggie, we’re all here, don’t get your panties in a twist old-timer,”

Klaus nods, backing him up.

“Just a little outing, no worries Five. All present and correct,”

Five sighs, but waves them away.

“Fine, go get your shit. We’re leaving in five minutes,”

Klaus winks at Five, then Diego, and pushes past towards his room.

But before he gets there, he stops. He realises that his bag, which he left ready and waiting on his bed, is piled up with others. 

Allison steps out of the corridor. She still has that irritating, confusing, very nice expression on her face. But she smiles warmly.

“Oh yeah, we grabbed your stuff in case you two came back late,”

Oh. Klaus stops in the centre of the room.

It’s not much, it’s barely anything really. Just a little thought, a token favour to speed up the grand design.

But it might just be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Klaus stands still and smiles, small, quiet.

Grateful. 

He breathes out a hushed- 

“Thanks, Ali”

His sister smiles, reaching out and rubbing her hands up and down his arm, then rushes past to talk to Vanya.

They go back to busying themselves, Five double and triple-checking his repairs to the briefcase and Luther running up and down the halls making sure nothing incriminating like a signed receipt or mansion blueprints was left behind. 

Allison pops her head back around the door.

“Should we leave money for the landlord? It’s not much but we’ve practically got this place for nothing, I feel kind of bad,”

Klaus pipes up.

“Nah fuck him,”

She frowns.

“Why not?”

Klaus shrugs, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Pretty sure he sold us out to the Sparrows. Certainly spilled the beans somewhere about where we were hiding. He’s a dodgy bastard anyway, I have it on good authority,”

His sister blinks, then nods with a grimace. 

“Fair enough,”

She disappears as quickly as she came. 

Klaus perches on the arm of the couch, patiently watching his family slip back and forth, adjusting his hat.

In a few minutes, the Umbrella Academy, minus one, is gathered in the main room.

Luther clears his throat. 

“Are we ready?”

Five nods.

“We’re good to go,”

They gather around in a circle, Five at the centre, fiddling with the settings on the case’s latches. 

Before he’s done, Klaus realises he should have asked something earlier.

“Er, where are we actually going again?”

Five replies without looking up. 

“The Commission. They monitor the timeline, and they're mostly friendly now. If they play ball, we might be able to slide back in where we left off. Get another crack,”

“Fourth time lucky?”

Five scowls, but Diego snorts beside him.

A few more slightly tense seconds later, Five stands abruptly. 

“Okay, we’ve got it,”

He looks around at them all.

“Any last words before we leave?”

They all exchange looks, Klaus shrugging as Allison makes brief eye contact.

“Speak now, or forever hold your peace,”

Klaus shakes his head, with a little smile. 

“I think we’re done here, buddy,”

_Time to move on._

Five nods, and holds out his left hand. 

The siblings grab each other one by one, Klaus with Vanya on one side and Diego on the other. His little sister squeezes his fingers, looking up with a shy smile. Klaus wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as Diego takes his palm with an eye roll and a grumble. But pay him no mind. Klaus doesn’t miss the way a thumb rubs slightly over the back of his wrist. 

Such a softie. 

Five has an arm on each shoulder and mutters something under his breath that Klaus doesn’t catch.

He flips a switch.

The world twists, breaks, _fractures_ all around them.

_Wish us luck, Ben._

Klaus is pulled into the vortex with a sigh, letting himself be swept away in a sea of bright, brilliant, hopeful _blue_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, guys, it's only gone and bloody finished!
> 
> This started as mostly a way to vent about my feelings surrounding Season 2. Like don't get me wrong, I had a blast, but Klaus has always been a bit of a comfort character if you can't tell, and I was little disappointed with how little screentime he got (though I understand that it's because it's an ensemble etc. etc. and I loved spending so much time with Diego, Allison and Ben in his stead!). 
> 
> I never thought this would be just over 70K by the time I finished, but here we are. 
> 
> I'd just like to say thank you to every single one of you who left a comment throughout this fic. I'm really crappy at replying (It's stagefright if I'm honest xD) but I promise every time I got a comment I was losing my shit and jumping around my bedroom like a mad woman. 
> 
> I've left it a bit open-ended, there's still a fair amount to fix I think, but I felt like here was a good place to draw a line, you feel? I have a few drabbley ideas, a couple of missing scenes and sequel one-shots lurking about (lots of ghost OCs had to be scrapped for pacing etc.), so maybe I might write a bit more? 
> 
> It's getting into deadline season for my masters so that might be a while, but I had such a blast writing this so it may be a great opportunity to procrastinate when I should be revising! 
> 
> I just want to say thank you again for indulging me! I hope you are all well, and looking after yourselves and each other out there! 
> 
> (Also Season 3 got confirmed yesterday so that's a reason to celebrate, right?) 
> 
> Good luck to you all, and see you around, k?
> 
> Min :)
> 
> (Edit: Hello!!! You may have noticed some edits? It's nothing major - mainly just me fixing my terrible grammar, clunky phrasing and some typos. Turns out I may have a bit of a comma fetish xD Hope y'all are doing well ^_^ )


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